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diff --git a/35607-h/35607-h.htm b/35607-h/35607-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b342907 --- /dev/null +++ b/35607-h/35607-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13675 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Spell, by William Dana Orcutt. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; line-height: 1.8; margin-top: 2em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; line-height: 1.5;} +h3 {font-size: 150%;} + +p.title { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.4; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 3em; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr.l1 {width: 100%; margin-top: 3em;} +hr.l2 {width: 100%; margin-bottom: 3em;} +hr.l3 {width: 100%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em; + color: window; padding: 2px 0 2px 0; + border-top: 1px solid black; border-bottom: 1px solid black; + border-left: none; border-right:none;} +hr.l4 {width: 60%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em;} +hr.l5 {width: 20%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em;} + +.r2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.r3 {margin-top: 3em;} +.r4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +table { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +td.col1 {text-align: left; padding-right: 2em; text-indent: -2em; vertical-align: top;} +td.col2 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; padding-left: 10px;} + +.dedication {line-height: 2; word-spacing: .5em; text-align: center;} + +.pagenum { + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + color: #888888; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: small;} + +.toc {text-align: left; margin: auto; display: table;} + +.name {font-style: italic;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + padding: .5em 0 .5em 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.poem {text-align: left;} + +.centered {text-align: center; + margin: auto; + display: table;} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.tnote { + border: dashed 1px; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spell, by William Dana Orcutt + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spell + +Author: William Dana Orcutt + +Illustrator: Gertrude Demain Hammond + +Release Date: March 18, 2011 [EBook #35607] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPELL *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, eagkw and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="362" height="546" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="center"><p class="toc"> +<a href="#BOOK_I"><b>BOOK I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_II"><b>BOOK II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#BOOK_III"><b>BOOK III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Transcribers_Notes"><b>Transcriber’s Notes</b></a></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 339px;"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt="THERE MAY BE SOME DIFFERENCE IN MEN, BUT +ALL HUSBANDS ARE ALIKE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“THERE MAY BE SOME DIFFERENCE IN MEN, BUT +ALL HUSBANDS ARE ALIKE”</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/titlepg.jpg" width="362" height="586" alt="title page" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>THE SPELL</h1> + +<p class="title">BY<br /> + +<big>WILLIAM DANA ORCUTT</big><br /> + +<small>AUTHOR OF<br /> +“THE FLOWER OF DESTINY” “ROBERT CAVELIER”<br /> +“THE PRINCESS KALLISTO” ETC.</small></p> + +<p class="title">ILLUSTRATED BY<br /> +GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R. I. +</p> + +<hr class="l5"/> + +<p class="center"><big>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</big><br /> + +NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> + +MCMIX +</p> + +<hr class="l4"/> + + +<p class="center"> +Copyright, 1909, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.<br /> + +<i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> + +Published January, 1909. +</p> +<hr class="l4"/> + + +<p class="dedication">TO<br /> + +MY FRIEND<br /> + +<big><big><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">GUIDO BIAGI</span> OF FLORENCE</big></big><br /> + +MODERN HUMANIST<br /> + +NEITHER MASTER OF FATE NOR VICTIM OF FATE<br /> + +BUT CO-PARTNER WITH NATURE IN SOLVING<br /> + +HIS OWN PERSONAL PROBLEM, THIS BOOK IS<br /> + +AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED +</p> +<hr class="l4"/> + + +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td class="col1">“THERE MAY BE SOME DIFFERENCE IN MEN, +BUT ALL HUSBANDS ARE ALIKE” +(See page <a href="#Page_14">14</a>)</td><td class="col2"><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">SLOWLY THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK UPON +INEZ’ BRAIN. SHE WAS NO LONGER IN +THE PRESENT—SHE WAS A WOMAN OF +ITALY OF FOUR CENTURIES BACK</td><td class="col2"><i>Facing</i> p. <a href="#fp54"><i>54</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">“BECAUSE ‘BEAUTIFUL PAINTINGS’ DO NOT +POSSESS HUSBANDS,” REPLIED THE CONTESSA, +SAGELY.</td><td class="col2">" <a href="#fp192"><i>192</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, +HELEN TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER +HEART SHE RESENTED THE INTERFERENCE</td><td class="col2">" <a href="#fp334"><i>334</i></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="l3"/> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a>BOOK I<br /><br /> + +MASTER OF FATE</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> +<hr class="l3"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + + + +<h1>THE SPELL</h1> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>I</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + +<p>“Now, Jack, here is a chance to put your knowledge +of the classics to some practical use.”</p> + +<p>Helen Armstrong paused for a moment before +a Latin inscription cut in the upper stones of the +boundary wall, and leaned gratefully upon her companion’s +arm after the steep ascent. “What does it +mean?”</p> + +<p>Her husband smiled. “That is an easy test. The +ancient legend conveys the cheering intelligence that +‘from this spot Florence and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>, mother and daughter, +are equi-distant.’”</p> + +<p>The girl released her hold upon the man’s arm and, +pushing back a few stray locks which the wind had +loosened, turned to regard the panorama behind her. +It was a charmingly picturesque and characteristic +Italian roadway which they had chosen for their day’s +excursion. On either side stood plastered stone walls, +which bore curious marks and circles, made—who shall +say when or by whom?—remaining there as an atavistic +suggestion of Etruscan symbolism. The whiteness of +the walls was relieved by tall cypresses and ilexes which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +rose high above them, while below the branches, and reclining +upon the stone top, a profusion of wild roses +shed their petals and their fragrance for the benefit of +the passers-by. In the distance, through the trees, +showed the shimmering green of olive-groves and vineyards—covering +the hillsides, yet yielding occasionally +to a gay-blossoming garden; and, as if to complete by +contrast, the streaked peaks of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Carrara</span> gave a faint suggestion +of their marble richness. In front, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span> rose +sheer and picturesque, while villas, scattered here and +there, some large and stately, some small, some antiquated +and others modernized, gave evidence that the +ancient <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via della Piazzola</span> still expressed its own individuality +as in the days when the bishops of old trod its +paths in visiting their see at the top of the hill, and +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Boccaccio</span> and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Sacchetti</span>, with their kindred spirits, made +its echoes ring with merry revelling. But, inevitably +turning again, the modern pilgrims saw far below them, +and most impressive of all, the languorous City of +Flowers, peacefully dreaming on either side of the silver +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span>.</p> + +<p>All this was a familiar sight to John Armstrong, whose +five years’ residence in Florence, just before entering +Harvard, made him feel entirely at home in its outskirts. +He preferred, therefore, to fix his eyes upon the face +of the girl beside him. She was tall and fair, with figure +well proportioned, yet the characteristic which left the +deepest impress was her peculiar sweetness of expression. +Among her Vincent Club friends she was universally considered +beautiful, and a girl’s verdict of another girl’s +beauty is rarely exaggerated. Her deep, merry, gray +eyes showed whence came the vivacity which ever made +her the centre of an animated group, while the sympathy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +and understanding which shone from them explained +her popularity.</p> + +<p>The announcement of her engagement to Jack Armstrong +was the greatest surprise of a sensational Boston +season, not because of any unfitness in the match,—for +the Armstrong lineage was quite as distinguished as the +Cartwrights’,—but because Helen had so persistently +discouraged all admiration beyond the point of friendship +and comradeship, that those who should have known +pronounced her immune.</p> + +<p>But that was because her friends had read her character +even less correctly than they had Armstrong’s. +They would have told you that she was distinctly a girl +of the twentieth century; he discovered that while tempered +by its progressiveness, she had not been marred by +its extremes. They would have said that her character +had not yet found opportunity for expression, since her +every wish had always been gratified; he would have explained +that the fact that she had learned to wish wisely +was in itself sufficient expression of the character which +lay beneath.</p> + +<p>He watched her in the midst of the social life to which +they both belonged, entering naturally, as he did, into +its conventionalities as a matter of course, and he rejoiced +to find in her, beyond the enjoyment of those +every-day pleasures which end where they begin, a response +to the deeper thoughts which controlled his own +best expression. He could see that these new subjects +frightened her a little by their immensity, as he tried to +explain them; he sympathized with her momentary despair +when she found herself beyond her depth; but he +was convinced that the understanding and the interest +were both there, as in an undeveloped negative.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>This same power of analysis which enabled him to +discover what all could not surmise had separated Armstrong, +in Helen’s mind, from other men, nearer her own +age, whom she had known. She could hardly have put +in words what the difference was, but she felt that it +existed, and this paved the way for his ultimate success. +His personal attributes, inevitably tempered by the early +Italian influence, marked him as one considerably above +the commonplace. At college he had won the respect of +his professors by his strength of mind and tenacity of application, +and the affection of his fellow-students by his +skill in athletics and his general good-fellowship. Now, +eight years out of college, he had already made his place +at the Boston bar, and was regarded as a successful man +in his profession. But beyond all this, unknown even to +himself, Armstrong was an extremist. The seed had +been sown during that residence in Florence years before, +when unconsciously he had assimilated the enthusiasm +of an erudite librarian for the learning and achievements +of the master spirits of the past. Latin and Greek at +college had thus meant much more to him than dead +languages; in them he found living personalities +which inspired in him the liveliest ambition for emulation.</p> + +<p>These were some of the subjects to which he introduced +Helen. Little by little he told her of the fascination +they possessed for him, of the treasures hidden beneath +their austere exterior. But the girl was perhaps +more interested by the charm of his presentation than by +the possibilities she saw in the subjects themselves. She +felt that she could understand him, and admitted her +respect for the objects of his enthusiasm, but she was +convinced that these were beyond her comprehension,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +and frankly rebelled at the necessity of going back into +dead centuries for them.</p> + +<p>“I love the present, and all that it contains,” she +replied to him one day when something suggested the +subject during one of the many walks they took together; +“I love the sky, the air, the sunshine, and the +flowers. Why should I go back to the past, made up of +memories only, when I may enjoy all this beautiful world +around me? And you, Jack—I should not have you if +I had lived in the past!”</p> + +<p>As her friends had said, she possessed strong ideas +about marriage, and expressed them without reserve. +Until Armstrong’s irresistible wooing, she had decided, +as a result both of observation and of conclusion, that +admiration and attention from many were far to be preferred +to the devotion of any single one, and that matrimony +was neither essential nor desirable except under +ideal conditions.</p> + +<p>“There are so many things which seem more interesting +to me than a husband,” Helen asserted. “I’m +afraid that I agree too much with that wise old cynic +who said that ‘love is the wine of life, and marriage +the dram-drinking.’ I insist on remaining a teetotaler.”</p> + +<p>Thus Armstrong felt himself entitled to enjoy a certain +degree of pride and satisfaction in that he had succeeded +in convincing her at last that the ideal conditions +she demanded had been met.</p> + +<p>Even on board the steamer, at the start of their wedding +journey, as the familiar sky-line of New York became +less and less distinct, Armstrong read in his wife’s +eyes, still gazing back at the vanishing city, the thoughts +which inevitably forced themselves upon her—a last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +remnant of her former doubt. When she turned and +saw him looking at her, she smiled guiltily.</p> + +<p>“We are leaving the old life behind us,” she said. +“With all the philosophy you have tried to teach me, +I have not fully realized until now what a change it +means.”</p> + +<p>“Do you regret it?” he asked her, half rebellious that +even a passing shadow should mar the completeness of +their happiness.</p> + +<p>Helen quickly became herself again, and threw back +her head with a merry laugh at the seriousness of his +interrogation. “Regret it! How foolish even to ask +such a question! But you cannot wonder that the importance +of the event should force itself upon me, now +that we are actually married, even if it never did before. +It makes so much more of a change in a woman’s life +than in a man’s.”</p> + +<p>Helen sighed, and then looked mischievously into his +face. “With you superior beings,” she continued, “it +simply signifies a new latch-key, a new head to your +household, and the added companionship of a woman +whom you have selected as absolutely essential to your +happiness. You keep your old friends, give up for a +time a few of your bad habits, and transfer a part of +your affections from your clubs to your home. To the +woman, it means a complete readjustment. New duties +and responsibilities come to her all at once. From her +earliest memory she has been taught to depend upon the +counsel and guidance of her parents, but suddenly she +finds herself freed from this long-accustomed habit, with +a man standing beside her, only a few years her senior, +who is convinced that he can serve in this capacity far +better than any one else ever did. Even with a husband<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +as superior as yourself, Mr. John Armstrong, is it not +natural that one should recognize the passing of the old +life, while welcoming the coming of the new?”</p> + +<p>After landing, they had lingered for a fortnight in +Paris, but, beneath the keen enjoyment of the attractions +there, Armstrong had felt an impatience, unacknowledged +even to himself, to reach Florence, which contained +for him so much of interest, and whither his memory—let +him give it sway—ever recalled him. He felt that +his <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">dei familiares</i> were patiently waiting for him there, +indulgent in spite of his long absence, yet insistent that +their rights again be recognized. Having dropped his +engrossing law-practice, he yearned to take advantage +of this opportunity, now near at hand, to devote himself +to the girl he had won, and at the same time to gratify +this long-cherished wish to study more deeply into the +work of those early humanists who had foreshadowed and +brought about that mighty thought revolution, the wonderful +breaking-away from the deadly pall of ignorance +into the light and joyousness and richness of intellectual +life known as the Renaissance. Helen would no longer +fail to understand them when she saw them face to face. +He would lead her gently, even as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> the librarian +had led him; and together they would draw from the +old life those principles which made it what it was, incorporating +them into their new existence, which would +thus be the richer and better worth the living. So now +that he had actually reached his goal, it was natural that +his contentment at finding himself in Florence with his +wife was intensified by the joy of being again amid the +scenes and personages which his imagination had taken +out from the indefiniteness of antiquity, and invested with +a living actuality.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sharp contrast of his two great devotions came +to John Armstrong as he stood at the cross-roads on +the edge of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span>. The one had exerted so +powerful an influence on what he was to-day—the other +must influence his future to an extent even greater. The +one, in spite of the personality with which he had clothed +it, was as musty and antiquated as the ancient tomes +he loved to study; the other, as she stood there, her +cheeks aglow after the brisk walk, her face animated +with enthusiastic delight, seemed the personification of +present reality. What a force the two must make when +once joined together, contributing, each to the other, +those qualities which would else be lacking!</p> + +<p>“I must take you yet a little higher,” Armstrong +urged at length; “these walls still cut off much of the +glorious view.”</p> + +<p>In a few moments more they had partly ascended the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via della Fiesolana</span>, which at this hour was wholly deserted. +With a sigh, half from satisfaction and half +from momentary fatigue, Helen turned to her companion. +She caught the admiration which his face so clearly reflected, +but, womanlike, preferred to feign ignorance of +its origin. Glancing about her, she discovered a rock, +half hidden by the tall grass and wild poppies, which +offered an attractive resting-place. Seating herself, she +plucked several of the brilliant blossoms, and began to +weave the stems together. At last she broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Why are you so quiet, Jack?”</p> + +<p>“For three reasons,” he replied, promptly. “This +walk has made me romantic, poetic, and hungry.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed heartily. “I am glad you added the +third reason, for by that I know that you are mortal. +This wonderful air and the marvellous view affect me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +exactly as a fairy-story used to, years ago. When I +turned I fully expected to find a fairy prince beside +me. You confess that you are romantic, which is becoming +in a five-weeks’-old husband, but why poetic?”</p> + +<p>“‘Poetry is but spoken painting,’” quoted Armstrong, +smiling; “and I should be pleased indeed were +I able to put on canvas the picture I now see before me.”</p> + +<p>“Since you cannot do that, suppose you write a sonnet.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong met her arch smile firmly. The girlish +abandon under the influence of new surroundings awoke +in him a side of his nature which he had not previously +realized he possessed. Stooping, he gently held her face +between his hands and looked deep into her responsive +eyes before replying:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘<i>Say from what vein did Love procure the gold</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To make those sunny tresses? From what thorn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Stole he the rose, and whence the dew of morn,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Bidding them breathe and live in Beauty’s mould?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>What depth of ocean gave the pearls that told</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Those gentle accents sweet, tho’ rarely born?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Whence came so many graces to adorn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That brow more fair than summer skies unfold?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Oh! say what angels lead, what spheres control</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The song divine which wastes my life away?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>(Who can with trifles now my senses move?)</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>What sun gave birth unto the lofty soul</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of those enchanting eyes, whose glances stray</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To burn and freeze my heart—the sport of Love?</i>’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Helen made no reply for several moments after Armstrong +ceased speaking. Then she held out her hand to +him and looked up into his face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I never knew before that you were a real poet,” she +said, quietly.</p> + +<p>“I wish I were—and such a poet! My precious +Petrarch, for whom you profess so little fondness, is +responsible for that most splendid tribute ever paid to +woman.”</p> + +<p>Helen was incredulous.</p> + +<p>“That sanctimonious old gentleman with the laurel +leaves on his head and the very self-confident expression +on his face?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong nodded.</p> + +<p>“Who spent all his life making love to another man’s +wife from a safe distance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; this is one of his love-letters.”</p> + +<p>“Then if I accept those lines you just repeated with +so much feeling, I must be Laura?”</p> + +<p>“But not another man’s wife.”</p> + +<p>“I should have been if you had acted like that, Jack. +Let me see how you look with a laurel wreath made of +poppies.”</p> + +<p>She drew his head down and tied the flowers about his +forehead. Then, pushing him away from her, she clapped +her hands with delight.</p> + +<p>“There! if the noble Petrarch had looked like that, +Madonna Laura could surely never have resisted +him.”</p> + +<p>“Had Madonna Laura resembled Madonna Helen, +the worthy Petrarch would have had her in his arms +before she had the chance,” laughed Armstrong, improving +his opportunity as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Very gallant, Jack, but very improper.” Helen +pursed her lips and looked up at him mischievously. +“But let us forget your musty old antiquities and talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +of the present. Do you realize that this is the end of +our honeymoon?”</p> + +<p>“No,” he replied, holding her more closely and laughing +down at her; “it has only just begun.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” assented Helen, disengaging herself, +“but to-morrow we are to exchange the very romantic +titles of ‘bride’ and ‘bridegroom’ for the much more +commonplace ‘host’ and ‘hostess.’”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I am relieved that you are not going to divorce +me at once.” Armstrong was amused at her seriousness. +“But it was your idea to invite them to join us, was it +not?”</p> + +<p>“I know it was—and now I must make a confession +to you. I thought that in five weeks we both would be +glad enough to have some little break in our love-making. +But I did not realize how rapidly five weeks could +pass. Still”—Helen sighed—“what is the use of having +a villa in Florence unless you can invite your friends +to see it?”</p> + +<p>“Then you have not become tired of your husband as +soon as you thought you would?”</p> + +<p>“Nor you of your wife?” Helen retorted, quickly. +“Mamma suggested it first. She said that so long a +wedding trip as we had planned was sure to end with +one or both of us becoming hopelessly bored unless +we introduced other characters into our Garden of +Eden.”</p> + +<p>“Did she say ‘Garden of Eden’? That family party +included a serpent, if rumor be correct.”</p> + +<p>The girl laughed.</p> + +<p>“But there could not be one in ours, because I would +never give you the chance to say, ‘The woman did +it.’”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Your mother forgets that we are exceptions.”</p> + +<p>“She says there may be some difference in men, but +that all husbands are alike.”</p> + +<p>“Trite and to the point, as always with mamma.” +Armstrong paused and smiled. “Well, I think even she +will be satisfied with the success of her suggestion. How +many do our guests number at present?”</p> + +<p>Helen dropped the flower she was idly swinging and +began to count upon her fingers.</p> + +<p>“Let me see. There is Inez Thayer—I am glad +that she could visit us, so that at last you can know +her. It is strange enough that you should not have +met her until the wedding. You cannot help liking each +other, for she is interested in all those serious things you +love so well. The girls used to make sport of our devotion +at school because our dispositions are so unlike: +she is thoughtful, while I am impulsive; she is carried +away with anything which is deep and learned, while I, +as you well know, have nothing more important in life +than you and my music.”</p> + +<p>Helen paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Sometimes +I wish I could really interest myself in those ancient +deities you worship.”</p> + +<p>“You could if you only knew them as I do,” he urged, +quietly. “The present is the evolution of the past, but +it has been evolved so fast that many of the old-time +treasures have been forgotten in the mad pace of every-day +life.”</p> + +<p>“But we can’t remember everything,” Helen replied; +“there are not hours enough in the day. I can’t even +find time to read our modern writers as much as I wish I +could, and I think one ought to do that before going +back to the ancients.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All modern literature is based upon what has gone +before,” insisted Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment.” Helen’s face again became +thoughtful. “I have it!” she cried, triumphantly. +“‘The gardens of Sicily are empty now, but the bees +still fetch honey from the golden jars of <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Theocritus</span>.’ +That is what you mean, is it not? I remember that +from something of Lowell’s I read at school.”</p> + +<p>“Splendid!” he laughed, with delight. “Who dares +to say that you are not in sympathy with the past?” He +bent his head down close to hers. “Would you not prefer +to hold those ‘golden jars’ in your very hands, sweetheart, +rather than merely read about them?”</p> + +<p>“But, Jack, ‘the gardens of Sicily are empty now.’ +Think how lonesome we should be.” Helen threw back +her head and drew in a long breath of the exhilarating +air.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was still insistent. “I wish I could make +you see it as I do,” he said. “The present of to-day is +bound to be the past of to-morrow. What I want to +do is to assimilate all that the past can give me, so that +I may do my part, however small, toward giving it out +again, made stronger and more effective because of its +modern application, thus helping this present to become +worthy of being considered by those who come after us.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up at him with undisguised admiration. +“Oh, Jack, that sounds so wonderful, and I wish I could +enter into it with you, but I simply cannot do it. Inez +will be just the one. At school, as I told you, she went +in for the classics and all that, while I—well, I was +sent there to be ‘finished.’ Don’t look so disappointed, +Jack. Truly I would if I could.”</p> + +<p>“I shall not give you up yet,” he answered, smiling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +at Helen’s intensity, notwithstanding his genuine regret. +“Tell me something more about Miss Thayer, since you +insist upon her becoming your substitute.”</p> + +<p>“Inez is a darling, in spite of her superiority,” Helen +replied, gayly, “and I simply could not have been married +without her for a bridesmaid. She would have sailed +two weeks earlier except for our wedding. As it was, +she came over with her cousins, and has been travelling +with them until time to join us here at the villa.”</p> + +<p>“De Peyster is still devoted, I judge?”</p> + +<p>“Poor Ferdinand! His persistency has quite won my +sympathy. He simply will not take ‘no’ for an answer, +but travels back and forth between Boston and Philadelphia +like any commercial traveller. Going over, he +has a bunch of American Beauties under one arm and a +box of bonbons under the other; returning, nothing but +another refusal to add to those Inez has already given +him.”</p> + +<p>“He is not a bad sort of chap at all, when you get +past his peculiarities,” Armstrong added.</p> + +<p>“Ferdy is a splendid fellow, in his own way,” assented +Helen, warmly, “and any girl might do a great deal +worse than marry him; but he is not Inez’ style at all. +I believe her trip to Europe is really to get away from +him. I know he thinks that is the reason, and is simply +inconsolable.”</p> + +<p>“De Peyster would be a good match,” remarked Armstrong, +thoughtfully. “He has plenty of money and +plenty of leisure, and he ought to be able to make his +wife fairly comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“But that is not what Inez wants. She has great +ideas about affinities, and Ferdy does not answer to the +description.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then there is your uncle Peabody,” Armstrong +prompted, helpfully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, there is dear Uncle Peabody. You will enjoy +him immensely.”</p> + +<p>“Does he live up to his reputation of a man with an +‘ism’?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jack! Some one has been maligning him to +you. That is because he is the only original member of +our family, and really the most useful.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! If that is your estimate of him, it shall +also be mine. I was prepared for a well-developed specimen +of the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">genus</i> crank.”</p> + +<p>“Wait till you see him.” Helen laughed at her husband’s +mental picture. “He is a crank, in a way, but +he is a mighty cheerful one to have around.”</p> + +<p>“He believes in making an air-plant of one’s self, in +order to help him forget his other troubles, does he not?”</p> + +<p>“Who has been making fun of dear Uncle Peabody? +I must have him tell you about his work himself. It +is true that he believes most people overeat, and it +is true that he is devoting his life and his fortune to +finding out what the basis of proper nutrition really is; +but as for starving—wait till you see him!”</p> + +<p>“You have relieved me considerably,” Armstrong replied, +gravely. “From what I had heard of your uncle +I had expected nothing less than to be made an example +of for the sake of science—and you have already discovered +that I am really partial to my meals.”</p> + +<p>“You can be just as partial to them as ever, Jack. +But, seriously, I know you will find him most interesting, +and I shall be surprised if his theories do not give you +something new to think about.”</p> + +<p>“His theories will not do for me,” said Armstrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +assuming a position of mock importance, “for I have +always been taught that a touch of indigestion is absolutely +essential to genius.”</p> + +<p>“Splendid!” cried Helen. “That will be just the +argument to start the conversation at our first dinner +and keep it from being commonplace. I have been trying +to think how we could get Uncle Peabody interested. +It is only that first dinner which I dread, and you have +helped me out nobly.”</p> + +<p>“That makes two,” suggested Jack.</p> + +<p>“Yes, two. Then there are the Sinclair girls, who +have been studying here in Florence for nearly a year. +They will come up from their <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pension</i>. That makes four—and +the others, you know, are Phil Emory and Dick +Eustis, who arrive in Florence from Rome to-night. I +don’t need to tell you anything about them.”</p> + +<p>“There is a whole lot you might tell me about Emory +if you chose.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked slyly into his wife’s face.</p> + +<p>“Shame on you, Jack!” Helen cried, flushing; “the +idea of being jealous on your wedding trip!”</p> + +<p>“I am not jealous <em>now</em>.” He emphasized the last +word.</p> + +<p>“Well, I am glad you are over it.”</p> + +<p>“It looks like a very jolly party,” he hastened to add, +seeing that Helen’s annoyance was genuine, “and I can +see where we become old married folk to-morrow. You +and Uncle Peabody will act as chaperons, I presume, +Phil and Dick will look after the Sinclair girls, while I +am to devote myself to Inez Thayer. Is that the programme?”</p> + +<p>“Exactly. I am so anxious that Inez should appreciate +what a talented husband I have. She has heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +great stories about your learning and erudition, so now +you must live up to the picture.”</p> + +<p>“Then suppose we start for home if you are quite +rested. It is plainly incumbent on me to make sure that +my knowledge of the classics proves equal to the test.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>II</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The Armstrongs had installed themselves in the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>, near <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>. The date for +the wedding was no sooner settled than Jack cabled +to secure what had always seemed to him to be the most +glorious location around Florence. Years before, his +favorite tramp had been out of the ancient city through +the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Porta alla Croce</span> to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">La Mensola</span>, whence he delighted +to ascend the hill of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>. Every villa possessed a +peculiar fascination for him. The “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Poggio Gherardo</span>”—the +“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Primo Palagio del Refugio</span>” of the <span class="name">Decameron</span>—made +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Boccaccio</span> real to him. The <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Buonarroti</span>, +whither <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> was sent as a baby, after the Italian +custom, to be nursed in a family of <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">scarpellini</i>, always +attracted him, and times without number he had +stood admiringly before the wall in one of the rooms, +gazing at the figure of the satyr which the infant +prodigy drew with a burning stick taken from the +fire. In those days he had been seized with a secret +yearning to become an artist, and often he had tried to +reproduce the satyr from memory, but always the ugly +visage assumed a mocking, sneering aspect which caused +him to relinquish his cherished ambition in despair.</p> + +<p>But the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> appealed to Armstrong for +a different reason. It stood high up on the hill, affording +a wonderful view of the village of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +the wide-spreading valley of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span>. The villa itself, +with its overhanging eaves, coigned angles, and +narrow windows, set on heavy consoles, was essentially +Tuscan, and impressive far out of proportion to its size. +It would have seemed too massive but for an arcade at +either end, the one connecting the house itself with +its chapel, the other leading from the first floor through +a spiral stairway in one pier of the arcade to what +originally, in the days of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gamberelli</span>, had been an +old fish-pond and herb-garden. In front of the villa +a row of antiquated stone vases shared the honors with +equally dilapidated stone dogs along a grassy terrace +held up by a low wall, while beyond this and the house +was the vineyard.</p> + +<p>Armstrong had studied the plans of the house and +grounds from a distance, because, after his disappointing +experience with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>’s satyr, he had firmly +determined to become an architect and to build Italian +houses in America. He had walked up and down the +long bowling-green behind the villa, carefully noting the +number of statues set upon the high retaining wall +and figuring the height of the hedges. One day old +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>, the sun-baked gardener who had watched the +boy first with suspicion and then with interest, invited +him to enter, and his joy had been complete. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> +showed him the fish-pond and the grotto, lying in the +shadow of the ancient cypresses, made up of varicolored +shells and stones, with shepherds and nymphs occupying +niches around a trickling fountain. He led him to the +balustrade at the end of the bowling-green, and pointed +out the panorama which terminated in the hills beyond +the southern bank of the river.</p> + +<p>Parallel with the back of the villa was another wall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +which supported a terrace of cypress and ilex trees. +Behind this was the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">salvatico</i>, without which no self-respecting +Italian villa could maintain its dignity, with +stone seats beneath the heavy foliage offering a grateful +relief from the glare of the sun. And here and there were +white statues of classic goddesses, to relieve the loneliness +had it existed. An iron gate, let into the wall opposite +the main doorway of the villa, led into a small garden, +this leading in turn into another grotto, which, with its +fountain and statues, formed an extension of the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vista</i>. +On either side a balustraded flight of steps led up to +an artificial height—the Italians’ beloved <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">terrazza</i>—flanked +by rows of orange and lemon trees, growing +luxuriantly in their red earthen pots; while against the +wide balustrades rested the heavily scented clusters of +the camellia and the rose-tinted oleander.</p> + +<p>Twelve years is a short space of time in Italy, where +age is reckoned by the millennial, so it seemed perfectly +natural, when Armstrong arrived in Florence, to find +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> still at his old post and included in the lease +as a part of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>. The old man expressed +no surprise, no delight—yet at heart he was +well pleased. The previous tenants of the villa had +been the unimaginative family of a German-American +brewer, and their preference for beer over the wonderful +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vino rosso</i> which he himself had pressed out from the +luscious grapes in the vineyard filled his heart with sorrow. +He confided to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>, the red-lipped maid Armstrong +had engaged for Helen, that he “was glad to +serve an ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Americano molto importante</span>’ rather than a +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">porco</i>.” And <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> took great satisfaction in placing +upon that last word all the emphasis needed to express +six months’ accumulated disgust.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>From the moment the Armstrongs arrived, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>’s +admiration for Helen knew no bounds. To him she was +the personification of all that was perfection. Not that +he expressed it, even to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>—he would have forgotten +mass on Good Friday sooner than so forget his place. +It was rather that devotion which is born and not made—occasionally, +but not often, found in those who enter so +intimately into the life of those they serve, yet who +must always feel themselves apart from it. Hardly a +day had passed since the Armstrongs had assumed possession +of the villa that Helen had not found the choicest +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">fragole</i> at her plate, each juicy berry carefully selected +and resting upon a bed of its own leaves at the bottom +of the little basket. Her room was ever redolent with +the odor of the flowers he smuggled in, always unobserved; +and his instructions to the more frivolous <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> +as to her duties toward the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">nobile donna</i> were such as to +cause that young woman to throw her head haughtily on +one side, with the observation that she was probably as +well acquainted with the requirements of a lady’s maid as +any gardener was apt to be, even though he <em>were</em> old +enough to be her grandfather.</p> + +<p>This particular tiff had taken place while Armstrong +and his wife were making their excursion to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>. +On their return they had found <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> in a morose +mood, which quickly vanished when Helen told him, in +her broken Italian, that she expected guests upon the +morrow, and depended upon him to see that every room +was properly decorated, as he alone could do it. The +old man could hardly wait to arrange the chairs upon +the veranda, so eager was he to seek revenge upon his +youthful tormentor.</p> + +<p>“Did she ask you to arrange the flowers, young peacock-feather?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +asked <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> when he found +her in the kitchen. “Did she trust you even to bring +the message to old <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>? No. With her own lips +the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Eccellenza</i> praised the one servant on whom she +can rely.”</p> + +<p>“She knows you are good for nothing else,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> +retorted, with a scornful laugh and a toss of her pretty +head; “and she wishes to get you out of the way while +we attend to the really important matters. See,” she +cried, as the tinkling of the maids’ bell punctuated her +remarks, “the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">nobile donna</i> will now give <em>me</em> commands.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> could not so far forget his dignity as to reply +to such an outrageous slander, so he contented +himself with casting upon <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> his most withering +glances as she hastily brushed past him, holding back her +skirts lest they be defiled by touching the old man. He +watched her angrily until she vanished through the door, +then, with the choicest maledictions at his command, +he shuffled into the garden—into his own domain, where +the present generation of ill-bred servants, as he explained +to himself, could vex him not.</p> + +<p class="r3">Mrs. John Armstrong’s first dinner at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> +was an unqualified success. Uncle Peabody had +arrived early that morning; his optimism had set its seal +of approval upon the evident happiness of the bridal +couple, and he had already established himself as chief +reflector of the concentrated joy which he saw about him. +Inez Thayer was received into Helen’s welcoming arms +soon after luncheon, and was at once installed in the best +guest-chamber for an extended visit. Two dusty <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vetture</i> +brought the Sinclair girls, Emory and Eustis, in time for +dinner, each driver striving to deliver his passengers first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +in anticipation of an extra <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pourboire</i>. The company was +therefore complete, and each member quite in the spirit +of the occasion.</p> + +<p>The great candelabra cast their light upon the animated +party seated about the table in such a manner +that the old paintings hanging upon the walls of the +high room were but dimly visible. The long windows +were open, and the light breeze just cooled the air +enough to mellow the temperature, without so much as +causing the candle-flames to flicker. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>’s choicest +flowers, deftly arranged upon the table by Helen’s skilful +hands, contrasted pleasantly with the antique silver +and china which had once been the pride of the original +owner of the villa; and the menu itself, wisely intrusted +by Helen to the old Italian cook, was rife with constant +surprises for the American palate. Even the wines were +new—if not in name, at least in flavor, for Italian vintages +leave behind them their native richness and aroma +when transplanted. Never was any <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vino rosso</i> so delicious +as that which <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> made, even though unappreciated +by his former master; never such <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">lacrima +Christi</i> as that which Armstrong secured in a little wine-shop +near the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Bargello</span>; never such <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Asti spumante</i> as +that which sparkled in the glasses, eager to share its own +bubbling happiness in return for the privilege of touching +the fair lips of the beautiful <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">donne Americane</i>.</p> + +<p>“We had a friend of yours on board ship, Miss +Thayer,” said Emory, speaking to his left-hand neighbor +as they seated themselves.</p> + +<p>“A friend of mine?” queried Inez. “I can’t think +who it could be.”</p> + +<p>“Ferdy De Peyster,” replied Emory.</p> + +<p>Inez cast a quick glance at Helen. “Really?” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +asked. “I thought he was going to spend the summer +at Bar Harbor.”</p> + +<p>“Changed his mind at the last moment,” he said. +“Could not resist the charms of Italy. Do you know, +Helen”—Emory addressed himself to his hostess—“De +Peyster has developed a mania for art.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed. “No,” she replied, “that is news +indeed. It is a side of Ferdy’s nature which even his +best friends had not suspected. Is he coming to Florence?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t say; but he is evidently planning to leave +Rome. We left him at the Vatican, in the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pinacoteca</span>, +standing before <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Raphael</span>’s ‘Transfiguration.’”</p> + +<p>“With a Baedeker in his hand?” queried Jack.</p> + +<p>“No, studying Cook’s Continental Time-table.”</p> + +<p>“What a detective you would make, Mr. Emory,” +suggested Mary Sinclair as the laughter subsided.</p> + +<p>“I have a better story about De Peyster than that.”</p> + +<p>Eustis waited to be urged.</p> + +<p>“Give it to us, Dick,” said Jack, helpfully.</p> + +<p>“It was at Gibraltar,” began Eustis. “We were +in the same party going over the fortifications. De +Peyster, you know, enlisted at the time of the Spanish +war. Some family friend in the Senate obtained for +him a berth as second lieutenant, and his company got +as far as Key West. He rather prides himself on his +military knowledge, and he confided to me that he had +his uniform with him in case he was invited to attend any +Court functions. Well, all the way around De Peyster +explained everything to us. The Tommy Atkins who +was our guide was as serious as a mummy, but confirmed +everything Ferdy said. When you reach the gallery at +the top, you remember, the guide points out the parade-ground<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +below, and it happened that there was a battalion +going through its evolutions.”</p> + +<p>“‘Ah!’ said De Peyster, ‘this is very interesting.’” +Then he described each movement, giving it the technical +military name. At last he turned to our guide and +said, patronizingly: ‘I’m a bit disappointed, sergeant, +after all I have heard of the precision of the English +army. I have often seen American soldiers go through +those same movements—just as well as that.’</p> + +<p>“The sergeant saluted respectfully and gravely. +‘Quite likely, sir,’ he said, ‘quite likely. These are +raw recruits—arrived yesterday, sir!’”</p> + +<p>“De Peyster was a sport, though,” added Emory. +“When he saw that the joke was on him he handed +Tommy a shining sovereign and said: ‘Here, sergeant, +have this on me, and drink a health to our two armies—may +comparisons never be needed.’”</p> + +<p>Helen clapped her hands. “Good for Ferdy! He +is all right if people would only leave him alone.”</p> + +<p>“Too bad he has so much money!” Eustis was reflective. +“If De Peyster had to get out and hustle a +bit you would find he had a whole lot of stuff in him.”</p> + +<p>“Of course he has,” Uncle Peabody agreed.</p> + +<p>“Do you know Mr. De Peyster?” Inez asked, surprised.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Uncle Peabody, “I don’t need to after +hearing Mr. Eustis’s summary. On general principles, +every one has ‘a whole lot of stuff in him.’ The trouble +is that people don’t give it a chance to come out.”</p> + +<p>“Your confidence is evidently based upon your general +optimism?” Armstrong remembered that Helen +had mentioned this as a cardinal characteristic.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but proved by a thousand and one experiments.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +Our present subject, who now becomes No. 1002, is apparently +handicapped by the misfortune of inherited +leisure. It is rarely that a man of possession reaches +his fullest development without the spur of necessity. +More frequently we see one extreme or the other—too +much possession or too much necessity.”</p> + +<p>“That is all very well as a theory, but does it really +prove anything as regards De Peyster?” questioned +Armstrong. “Personally I think optimism is a dangerous +thing. This confidence that everything is coming +out right is what makes criminals out of bank +cashiers.”</p> + +<p>“There is a vast difference between real and false +optimism,” replied Uncle Peabody. “I knew a man +once who called himself a cheerful pessimist, because +every time he planted a seed it grew down instead of +up. He came to expect this, so it did not worry him +any. He was a real optimist, even though he did not +know it.”</p> + +<p>“What would be your prescription for a case like Mr. +De Peyster’s?” queried Bertha Sinclair.</p> + +<p>“A good wife, possessed of ambition, sympathy, and +tact,” Uncle Peabody replied, promptly. “This, my +dear Miss Sinclair, is your opportunity to assist me +in proving my argument. Will you be my accomplice?”</p> + +<p>“I? Why, I don’t even know Mr. De Peyster,” +Bertha protested. “You must find some one else.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” sighed Mr. Cartwright. “You see how +difficult it is for science to assert its laws.”</p> + +<p>Helen caught sight of Inez’ cheeks and hastened to +her friend’s relief.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Peabody, do you know that you are responsible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +for the first difference of opinion which has arisen +between my husband and me?”</p> + +<p>“My gracious, no! Can it be possible?”</p> + +<p>“It is a fact. I stated to him only yesterday that +perfect digestion was the only basis on which health +and happiness can possibly rest. You taught me that, +but Jack asserts that a touch of indigestion is absolutely +essential to genius.”</p> + +<p>“How does he know? Has he a touch of indigestion?”</p> + +<p>“Not a touch,” laughed Armstrong, “and that +proves my statement. I really believe I might have +been a genius if my digestion had not always been so +disgustingly strong.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t despair, my dear boy.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody looked at Jack over his spectacles. +“Genius is a germ, and sometimes develops late in life. +If your theory is correct, a few more gastronomic orgies +such as this will make you eligible.”</p> + +<p>“But is there not something in what I say?” Armstrong +persisted, seriously. “Is it not true that good +health is against intellectual progression? Is not good +health the supremacy of the physical over the mental? +The healthy man is an animal—he eats and sleeps too +much. Pain and suffering have not developed the nervous +side, which is so closely connected with the intellectual. +When the physical side becomes weakened, then +the brain begins to act.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody listened attentively and then removed +his spectacles. “My dear Jack Armstrong,” he said, at +last, “I can see some fun ahead for both of us, and +Helen has placed me still further in her debt by her +choice of a husband. Your argument is not a new one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +It was invented a great many years ago in France by +some clever person who wished to have an excuse for +late nights, absinthe, and cigarettes. Do you mean +seriously to advance a theory which, if logically carried +through to the end, would credit hospitals and homes +for the hopelessly depraved with being the highest intellectual +establishments in the world?”</p> + +<p>“But look at the examples which can be cited,” +Armstrong continued, undisturbed. “Zola produced +nothing of importance after he adopted the simple life, +and Swinburne’s poetry lost all its fire as soon as he +‘reformed.’”</p> + +<p>“Can you prove in either case that the question +of nutrition or digestion entered into the matter at +all?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it may have been a coincidence, of course; but +many other cases might be added.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was silent for a moment. “Let me +give you a simple problem,” he said, at length. “Helen +tells me that you have an automobile now on its way to +Florence?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong assented.</p> + +<p>“When it arrives I presume you will engage a chauffeur?”</p> + +<p>“What has an automobile to do with nutrition, Mr. +Cartwright?” demanded Mary Sinclair. “Surely an +automobile has no digestion.”</p> + +<p>“My application is near at hand. When you engage +that chauffeur I presume you will insist that he knows +the mechanism of the machine, understands the application +of the motive power and other details which enter +into safe and successful handling of the car?”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” replied Jack. “I am not introducing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +my machine here for the purpose either of murder or +suicide.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly. That is just what I wanted you to say. +Now, every human stomach is an engine which requires +at least as intelligent handling as that of an automobile. +Upon its successful working depends the mechanical +action of the body. We may disregard the additional +dependence of the brain. Petroleum in the automobile +is replaced by what we call food in the human engine. +Too much of either, unintelligently applied, produces +the same unfortunate result. Now I ask you, John Armstrong, +would you engage as chauffeur for your automobile +a man who knew no more about the mechanism of +its engine, or how to feed and handle it properly, than +you yourself know about your own body engine?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Armstrong admitted, frankly, “I would not.”</p> + +<p>“But which is more serious—a damage resulting +from his ignorance or from your own?”</p> + +<p>“Look here, Mr. Cartwright,” said Jack, laughingly, +“you promised that there was fun ahead for us both. +At present it seems to be mostly for you and our +friends.”</p> + +<p>“Who started the discussion?”</p> + +<p>“Helen; but I admit my error in being drawn into it. +I had not expected to be convicted upon my own evidence.”</p> + +<p>Helen rose. “I must rescue my husband from the +calamity I have brought upon him. Come, let us have +our coffee in the garden.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>III</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>If one could have looked within Uncle Peabody’s room +after the other guests had snuffed out their candles, +he would have discovered its inmate seated beside the +flickering light with an open letter in his hand. He +had read it over many times since its receipt nearly +three months earlier, announcing in Helen’s characteristic +way her engagement and approaching marriage. +No one else had ever come so closely into his life, and he +felt a certain responsibility to satisfy himself that the +girl had made no mistake in the important step which +she had taken. Now that he had actually met her husband, +he again perused the lines which had introduced +his new nephew to him.</p> + +<p class="r2">“<i>It has actually happened at last</i>,” the letter began, +“<i>and your favorite wager of ‘a thousand to one on the +unexpected’ has really won. In other words, I, Helen +Cartwright, condemned (by myself) to live and die an +old maid as penalty for being so critical of the genus +homo, now confess myself completely, hopelessly in love, +and so happy in my new estate that I wonder why I ever +hesitated.</i></p> + +<p>“<i>It is all so curious. The things which interested me +before now seem so commonplace compared to the events +to come in connection with this broader existence which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +is opening up before me. How infinitely more gratifying +it is to feel myself living for and a part of another’s +life, how comforting to know that some other personality, +whom I can love and respect, feels himself to be +living for and a part of my life. It adds to the seriousness +of it all, but how it increases the satisfaction!</i></p> + +<p>“<i>I wish I could describe John Armstrong to you, but +now that I am about to make the attempt I realize how +difficult a task I have undertaken. He is eight years +older than I, but sometimes he seems to be years younger, +while again I feel almost like a child beside him. No, +Uncle Peabody, it is not a similar case to that little Mrs. +Johnson whom you quoted when you were last home as +saying that a woman feels as old as the way her husband +treats her. I know this will pop into your mind, so I +will promptly head you off. The fact is that Jack is +a very remarkable man. He is handsome, with great +strength of character showing in every feature, he is +tall and athletic,—but it is his wonderful mental ability +which will most impress you. Think of a man playing +on the Harvard ’Varsity eleven, rowing on the crew, and +yet graduating with a</i> <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">summa cum laude</span>!</p> + +<p>“<i>Jack is a superb dancer, thus disproving the common +belief that a man can’t be clever at both ends; and +at the Assemblies, even before we were engaged, I used +to anticipate those numbers which he had taken more +than all the others. Besides this, his conversation was +always so original,—touching frequently upon topics +which were new to me. His particular fad is what he +calls ‘humanism’ and his particular loves the great +writers of the past,—his ‘divinities,’ as he calls them. +You probably understand just what all this means, but, +alas! most of it is beyond my comprehension! What he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +tells me interests me, of course,—it even fascinates me. +I can follow him up to a certain point; then we reach +my limitations, and I am forced to admit my lack of +understanding. That is when I feel so like an infant +beside him. He is as patient as can be, and insists that +when once I am in Florence, where the air itself is heavy +with the learning of the past, I shall be able to comprehend +it all, and it will mean the same to me that it does +to him. I wish I felt as confident!</i></p> + +<p>“<i>We are to be married in April, and Jack has taken +the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> in <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span> for the season. We +expect to arrive there early in May, and we want you +to come to us for just as long a visit as you can arrange. +You won’t disappoint me, will you, dear Uncle Peabody? +We all have been broken-hearted that you have so long +delayed your return, and one of the events in our plans +for Florence to which I am looking forward with the +greatest eagerness is this visit with you. Write and tell +me how your work progresses, but don’t say ‘I told you +so.’ This would show that you really expected it all the +time, and your favorite argument would lose its force. +Just say that you will come to us at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>.</i>”</p> + +<p class="r2">The letter itself showed that Helen had changed much +during the months which had elapsed since he had last +seen her. There was a more serious undertone and a +broader outlook,—due undoubtedly to Armstrong’s influence. +Uncle Peabody wondered whether Helen could +have been attracted to this man by her admiration for +his mental strength rather than by any real sentiment, +perhaps mistaking the one for the other. This was the +point he wished to settle in his own mind, and this was +why he had studied them both, from the moment of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +arrival, much more carefully than either one of them +realized.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was a remarkable man, as Helen had said. +Even in the few hours he had known him, Uncle Peabody +found much to admire. It was true that his manner +toward Helen showed indulgence, almost as to a +child rather than to a wife; but his devotion was entirely +obvious, and this relation was to be expected after reading +Helen’s letter. Still, Mr. Cartwright told himself, +the existence of this relation necessitated a certain readjustment +before a perfection of united interests could be +attained. Armstrong was bound to be the dominating +force, and Helen must inevitably respond to this new influence, +strange as it now seemed to her. His knowledge +of her sympathetic and intuitive grasp of his own pet +theories gave him confidence to believe that this response +would be equally prompt and comprehensive.</p> + +<p>Henry Peabody Cartwright was distinctly a citizen of +the world. Boston had been his birthplace, Boston had +been the base of his eminently successful business operations, +and his name still figured in the list of the city’s +“largest taxpayers.” Beyond this, the city of his early +activity had, during the past twenty years, seen him +only as a visitor at periodic intervals. He had emerged +from his commercial environment at the age of forty, +with a firm determination to gratify his ideals.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for him, and for mankind as well, his +ideals were not fully crystallized when he set out to +gratify them. Boston was entirely satisfactory to him +as an abiding-place, but he felt a leaven at work within +him which demanded a larger arena than even the outlying +territory of Greater Boston covered. He started, +therefore, in the late eighties for a trip around the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +world, with the definite purpose, as he himself announced, +of “giving things a chance to happen to him.”</p> + +<p>“I have no schedule and no plans,” he said to those +who questioned him. “I shall ‘hitch my wagon to a +star,’ but always with my grip near at hand, so that I +may change stars upon a moment’s notice.”</p> + +<p>There were no immediate family ties to interfere with +the carrying-out of what seemed to his friends to be +rather quixotic ideas. There may have been some youthful +romance, but, if so, no one ever succeeded in learning +anything of it from him.</p> + +<p>“It is all perfectly simple,” he once good-naturedly +replied to a persistent relative. “The girls I was willing +to marry would not have me, and those who would +have me I was not willing to marry. I used to think +that I would become more attractive as I grew older, +but I have given up that idea now. Once I tried to rub +a freckle off with sand-paper and pumice-stone and +found blood under the skin; but the freckle—the same +old freckle—is there to this day.”</p> + +<p>His devotion to women in the composite was consistent +and sincere; the fondness which existed between himself +and his brother’s family was such that his departure +had left a distinct void, and his visits home were events +circled with red ink in the family calendar. He enjoyed +these visits no less than they; but with never more than a +day or two of warning he would announce his intention +of leaving for Egypt or India or some spot more or less +remote in his quest for the unexpected. To the reproaches +which were levelled at him, he replied, with a +smile which defied controversy:</p> + +<p>“I am just as sorry not to be with you all as you can +possibly be to have me away; but I have educated myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +to the separation, and have thus overcome the necessity +for personal propinquity.”</p> + +<p>On that first trip around the world Uncle Peabody +found one of his ideals, although he did not realize its +vast importance until several years later. Japan appealed +to him, and the longer he remained there the more +impressed he became with certain of the national characteristics. +First of all, he marvelled at the evenness of +temper which the people displayed, at their endurance, +their patience. He watched the carefulness with which +they weighed the importance of each problem before +accepting its responsibility, and their utter abandon in +carrying it through when once undertaken. This was +twenty years before the Russo-Japanese war, and he +had come among them with the existing Occidental +estimate of their paganism and barbarity. It may have +been a species of incredulity leading to curiosity which +induced him to remain among them, but as a result of +his sojourn he discovered that they were philosophers +rather than fatalists, geniuses rather than barbarians.</p> + +<p>He questioned his new hosts, when he came to know +them better, and was told quite seriously and quite +naturally that they never became angry, because anger +produced poison in the system and retarded digestion; +that upon digestion depended health; that upon +health depended happiness, and upon happiness depended +personal efficiency and life itself. They explained +that forethought was one of the cardinal factors of their +creed, but added that its antithesis, fear-thought, was +equally important as an element to be eliminated. They +called his attention to the fact that they did not live +upon what they ate, but upon what they digested, and +that by masticating their food more thoroughly than he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +did they secured from the smaller quantity the same +amount of nourishment without needlessly overloading +their systems with undigested food which could not possibly +be assimilated.</p> + +<p>This last theory did not altogether appeal to Peabody +Cartwright at first. His friends at the Somerset +Club still held memories of his epicurean proclivities, +and they were not weary even yet of recalling the time +when he had won a goodly wager by naming, blindfolded, +five different vintages of Burgundy and Bordeaux. +But the more he thought it over the more convinced he +became that the something to which he had promised +to give a chance had really happened to him. He pondered, +he experimented—but he still continued to eat +larger quantities of food than the Japanese.</p> + +<p>A year later he was in Italy, and in Venice Mr. +Cartwright suddenly discovered that he had found the +geographical centre of the civilized world. With Venice +as the starting-point, one could reach London or Constantinople, +St. Petersburg or New York, with equal exertion. +Venice, therefore, became his adopted home, although +it could claim no more of his presence than any +one of a dozen other cities in the four quarters of the +globe. During the twenty years, he had succeeded in +making himself a part of each one—had become a veritable +citizen of the world, but by no means a man without +a country.</p> + +<p>Italy served to drive home the truths which Japan +had first shown him. Three years after his experience +there, a dingy, second-hand book-store in Florence +had placed him in possession of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Luigi Cornaro</span>’s <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Discorsi +della Vita Sobria</i>. He read it with amazement. +Here in his hand, written by a Venetian nobleman more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +than three hundred years before, at the age of eighty-three, +was the text-book of the theories of life which he +had accepted from the Japanese as new and untried +except among this alien people! It gave him a start, +and he journeyed to Turin, Berne, Berlin, Brussels, +Paris, London, St. Petersburg, and even back to Boston, +seeking to interest the famous physiologists in his discovery, +which he believed was destined to exterminate +disease and to transform those practising the medical +profession into hygienic engineers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cartwright’s name and personality preserved him +from a sanitarium, but his theories as to self-control, +forethought, and fear-thought received ample opportunity +for personal experiment. He was as tenacious +as if his future depended upon the outcome. A good-natured +indulgence here, and an incredulous sympathy +there, gave him his first opportunities for demonstration. +He not only drew upon his fortune, but freely +contributed himself as a subject for experiment. It +had been slow, but he had learned patience from the +Japanese. Disbelief gradually changed into doubt, +doubt into question, question into half-belief, and half-belief +into conviction. Quietly, surely, his own faith +was assimilated by those high in the physiological ranks, +and almost against their will, and before they realized +the importance of their concessions, he had forced them +to prove him right by their own analyses.</p> + +<p>The last five years had been a steady triumph. He +had found his ideals, but he had not attained them. He +knew what his life-work was, and had the gratification +of counting among his friends and collaborators the +highest authorities the world recognized. The habits +of generations could not be changed in a moment—some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +of them could never be changed; but the ball had been +started and was gaining in size with each revolution. +It no longer needed his gentle, persuasive push; it had +its own momentum now, and he found it only necessary +to guide its advance and to watch its growth.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody’s thoughts reverted to his work as he +folded Helen’s letter and placed it again in his pocket, +where he had so long carried it. He regretted having +his labors interrupted just now, but he found himself +keenly interested to watch Helen’s approaching evolution. +His wagon was firmly hitched to this new star, +and he had no notion of changing stars. So, with a +murmured “Bless you, my children. May you live forever, +and may I come to your funeral,” he sought the +repose which the others had already found.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>IV</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Mary and Bertha Sinclair were just completing a +year’s study in Florence, upon which they were +depending to perfect their musical education; but +both girls were sufficiently homesick after their two years’ +absence from Boston to be more than eager to exchange +their <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pension</i> for a week’s visit with Helen, who brought +to them a fresh budget of home news,—for which their +eagerness increased as the date for their return to America +drew nearer. Emory and Eustis, too, added familiar +faces, so the days following the first dinner at the villa +proved to be full of interest and enjoyment to all concerned.</p> + +<p>The guests became familiar with each portion of the +house and grounds, the mysteries of Italian house-keeping +were contrasted with the limitations of boarding, +and numerous topics of common import succeeded +each other without surcease.</p> + +<p>During the morning following the arrival of the +guests, Armstrong touched tentatively upon the subject +of visiting the library.</p> + +<p>“We went there when we first came to Florence,” +Mary Sinclair replied; “and we saw everything there +was.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong smiled indulgently, thinking of the little +they had really seen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You know we are not very literary,” explained +Bertha, catching the expression upon his face.</p> + +<p>“They are really more hopeless cases even than I,” +Helen added, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you try Phil and me?” inquired Emory. +“We went through the Vatican library, so we are experts. +At least they said it was a library. The only +books we saw there were a few in show-cases—the rest +they kept out of sight.”</p> + +<p>“You would not recognize a real book if you saw it, +Emory,” Armstrong replied, with resignation. “There +is no hurry. Perhaps Miss Thayer will go with me +some day soon.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I will,” Inez responded, with enthusiasm. +“There is nothing I wish so much to do.”</p> + +<p>“Good.” His appreciation was sincere. “I shall +take real delight in introducing to you my old-time +friends, with whom I often differ but, never quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“Are they so real to you as that?” Inez asked, impressed +by his tone.</p> + +<p>“They are indeed,” Armstrong replied, seriously. +“I visit and talk with them just as I would with you +all. But they have an aggravating advantage over +me, for, no matter how laboriously I argue with +them, their original statement stands unmoved there +upon the written page, as if enjoying my feeble effort +to disturb its serenity, and defying me to do my +worst.”</p> + +<p>“I would much prefer to give them an absent treatment,” +asserted Eustis.</p> + +<p>“Inez is clearly the psychological subject,” Helen +added. “At school she was forever putting us girls to +shame by her mortifying familiarity with the classics.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +It is only fair that she should now be paid in her own +coin.”</p> + +<p>“I accept both the invitation and the challenge,” replied +Inez, bowing to her hostess, and, walking over to +the low wall on which Helen had seated herself, she +threw her arm affectionately about her neck. “But +you must not embarrass me with such praise, or your +husband will suffer a keen disappointment. To study +Latin and Greek out of school-books is one thing; to +meet face to face the personalities one has regarded as +divinities—even reading their very handwriting—is another. +It makes one wonder if she ever did know anything +about them before.”</p> + +<p>“That is exactly the spirit in which to approach the +shrine, Miss Thayer!” cried Armstrong, enthusiastically. +“Let us frame a new beatitude: ‘Blessed is she who appreciates +the glories of antiquity, for she shall inherit +the riches of the past.’”</p> + +<p>The contrast of the two girls in the rich Italian morning +light was so striking that Uncle Peabody paused +in his approach after a successful attack upon the +rose-bushes, touched Armstrong upon the shoulder, and +nodded admiringly in their direction. They were separated +a little from the others, and were busily engaged +in a conversation of their own, in which no man hath a +part, quite oblivious to the attention they attracted. +Inez was standing, and, even though seated, Helen’s +superb head reached quite to her companion’s shoulder, +and the fair hair and complexion were clearly +defined against the darker hue of the face and head +bent down to meet her own. Her eyes, looking out +into the distance even as she spoke, reflected the calm, +satisfied contentment of the moment, while in the brown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +depths of the other’s one could read an ungratified ambition, +an uncertainty not yet explained. Inez Thayer’s +face was attractive, Helen’s was beautiful—that beauty +which one feels belongs naturally to the person possessing +it without the necessity of analysis.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was evidently pleased with this comparison, +as he had been with all previous ones. Italy, it seemed +to him, formed just the background to set off to best +advantage his wife’s personal attractions. Uncle Peabody +smiled contentedly at the undisguised satisfaction +which was so clearly indicated in the younger man’s +face.</p> + +<p>“If there had been any girls in Boston who looked +like that when I was of sparking age,” he whispered to +Armstrong, “I should certainly have married and settled +down, as I ought to have done.”</p> + +<p>“And allowed the world to perish of indigestion?” +queried Armstrong, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Scoffer! you do not deserve your good-fortune. +Come, these roses are becoming all thorns. Young +ladies, may I intrude upon your <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i> long enough +to present you with the trophies of my after-breakfast +hunt?”</p> + +<p>“A thousand apologies, Uncle,” cried Helen, taking +the roses in her arms and burying her face in their +fragrant petals. “Oh! how beautiful! And how idiotic +ever to leave this Garden of Paradise and immure yourselves +within that musty old library. Do you not repent?”</p> + +<p>“I place the decision wholly in Miss Thayer’s hands,” +said Armstrong; but he glanced at Inez with evident expectancy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p><p>“Then I decide to go,” replied the girl. “I am +quite impatient to meet the friends in whose good company +Mr. Armstrong revelled before his present reincarnation.”</p> + +<p>“When?” asked Armstrong, quickly.</p> + +<p>“Now!”</p> + +<p>“Splendid! I will order the carriage at once.”</p> + +<p>“There is rapid transit for you!” exclaimed Eustis. +“Jack believes in striking while the iron is hot.”</p> + +<p>“What a narrow escape we have had,” murmured +Mary Sinclair, with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Helen, resignedly. “It may be +just as well to have it over. Jack has been looking forward +to this ever since he turned his face toward Florence, +and he will be quite miserable until he has actually +gratified his anticipation.—But don’t be away long, will +you, Jack?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Thayer will very likely find the staid company +which we plan to keep quite as stupid as the rest +of you anticipate,” replied Armstrong, “so we may be +home sooner than you expect.”</p> + +<p>Inez had already disappeared in-doors to put on her +hat, and Armstrong started out to call a carriage. +Helen intercepted him as he crossed the veranda.</p> + +<p>“You won’t mind if I don’t go with you to-day, will +you, Jack? If it were just to see the treasures at the +library I would urge them all to go; but I know what +is in your mind, dear. Truly, I will go with you some +time, and you shall try your experiment upon me; but +I am not in the mood for it just now. I ought not to +leave the others, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“It is all right, of course,” he answered. “I wish +you did feel like going, but your substitute seems to be +enthusiastic enough to make up for your antipathy.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t call it that,” Helen answered, half-reproachfully; +“it is simply that I am ashamed to have my ignorance +exposed,—and it will give you such a splendid +chance really to know Inez. Now run along and have a +good time, and tell me all about it when you come home.”</p> + +<p class="r3">The little one-horse victoria soon left the villa behind, +and was well along on the narrow descending road +before either of its occupants broke the silence. As +if by mutual consent, each was thinking what neither +would have spoken aloud. Helen had not seen the expression +of disappointment which passed over her husband’s +face as she spoke. He would have given much +if it might have been his wife beside him. He had +studied the girl carefully, and had found in her an intuitive +sympathy with the very subjects concerning +which she disclaimed all knowledge. At first he had +thought that she exaggerated her limitations because +of his deeper study, but he soon discovered her absolute +sincerity. It was a lack of confidence in herself, +he inwardly explained, and when once in Florence he +would give her that confidence which was the only element +lacking to her complete understanding. But as +yet he had been unable to get her inside the library, or +even within range of the necessary atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Inez Thayer’s thoughts were upon the same subject, +but from a different standpoint. Her last words to +Helen, when Uncle Peabody had interrupted their conversation, +framed a mild reproach. “If I had won a +man like Jack Armstrong,” Inez whispered to her, “I +would not allow any one, not even you, to take my place +on an excursion such as this, upon which he has so set +his whole heart.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You are a sweet little harmonizer, Inez,” Helen had +answered, smilingly, “but you are a silly child none the +less. Jack and I understand each other perfectly. He +knows my limitations, and, if I went, I should only +spoil his full enjoyment. You will understand it and +revel in it, and he will be supremely happy. If you were +not so much better fitted naturally for this sort of thing, +of course I should go rather than disappoint him, but, +truly, the arrangement is much better as it is.”</p> + +<p>Inez had no opportunity to continue the conversation, +but Helen had not convinced her. Hers was an intense +nature, and she had much more of the romantic in her +soul than her best friends gave her credit for. Her one +serious love-affair had proved only an annoyance and +mortification. Ferdinand De Peyster was in many ways +a desirable <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">parti</i>, as mammas with marriageable daughters +were quite aware. He was possessed of a handsome +competency, was not inconvenienced by business responsibilities, +and his devotion to Inez Thayer was only whetted +to a greater degree of constancy by the opposition +it received from its particular object. He was not lacking +in education, having spent four years in the freshman +class at Harvard; he was not unattractive, in his +own individual way, and his one great desire, not even +second to his striving for blue ribbons with his fine stable +of blooded horses, was to have her accept the position of +head of his household.</p> + +<p>But Inez was repelled by the very subserviency of his +devotion. Her love rested heavily upon respect, and +this could be won only by a man who commanded it. +John Armstrong fulfilled her ideal, and she wondered +why Fate had not fashioned the man whom she had +attracted in a similar mould.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Armstrong looked up from his reverie half guiltily, +and for a moment his eyes met those of his companion +squarely. Inez could not match the frank glance—it +seemed to her as if he must have read her thoughts; +but the heartiness of his words relieved her apprehension.</p> + +<p>“What a bore you must think me, Miss Thayer! I +have not spoken a word since we left the house.”</p> + +<p>“I must assume my share of responsibility for the +silence,” Inez replied, regaining her composure. “The +seriousness of our quest must have had a sobering effect +upon us both.”</p> + +<p>“But you won’t find these old fellows so serious as +you think,” Armstrong hastened to say. “They were +humanists and products of the movement which marked +the breaking away from the ascetic severity preceding +them. But, after all, they were the first to realize that +life could be even better worth living if it contained +beauty and happiness.”</p> + +<p>“You see how little I know about them, in spite of +Helen’s attempt to place me on a pedestal.”</p> + +<p>“Why, if it had not been for their work,” he continued, +enthusiastically, “the classics might still have +remained as dead to us as they were to those who lived +in the thirteenth century. Instead of studying Virgil +and Homer, we should have been brought up on theological +literature and the ‘Holy Fathers.’”</p> + +<p>“I feel just as I did at my coming-out party,” Inez +replied—“that same feeling of awe and uncertainty. +I am eager to go with you, yet I dread it somehow. It +is not a presentiment exactly,—it is—”</p> + +<p>“I know just what you mean,” Armstrong interrupted, +sympathetically; “and, if you feel like that now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +just wait until you see old <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, the librarian. It is +he who is responsible for my passion for this sort of +thing. Why, I remember, when I was here years ago +and used to run in to see him at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Laurenziana</span>, I +never regarded him as a mortal at all; and I don’t believe +my reverence and veneration for the old man have +abated a whit in the twelve years gone by.”</p> + +<p>The light vehicle had passed through the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Porta alla +Croce</span>, and was swaying from side to side like a ship +at sea, rattling over the stones of the narrow city +streets at such a rate that conversation was no longer +a pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Just why Florentine cabmen are content to drive +at a snail’s pace on a good road and feel impelled to +rush at breakneck speed over bad ones is a phase of +Italian character explained neither by Baedeker nor by +Hare,” remarked Armstrong, leaning nearer to Inez to +make himself heard.</p> + +<p>With a loud snap of his whip and a guttural “Whee-oop,” +the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">cocchiere</i> rounded the statue of John of the +Black Bands, just missed the ancient book-stand immortalized +by Browning in the <span class="name">Ring and the Book</span>, +and came to a sudden stop before the unpretentious entrance +to the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Biblioteca Laurenziana</span>.</p> + +<p>“You have been here before, of course?” he asked his +companion as they passed through the wicket-gate into +the ancient cloisters of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Lorenzo</span>.</p> + +<p>“Once, with Baedeker to tell me to go on, and with +the tall Italian custodian to stop me when I reached the +red velvet rope stretched across the room, which I suppose +marks the Dante division between Purgatory and +Paradise.”</p> + +<p>“This time you shall not only enter Paradise, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +you shall behold the Beatific Vision,” laughed Armstrong.</p> + +<p>Passing by the main entrance of the library at the +head of the stone stairs, Armstrong led the way +along the upper cloister to a small door, where he pressed +a little electric button—an accessory not included +in <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>’s original plans for the building. A +moment later they heard the sound of descending footsteps, +and presently a bearded face looked out at them +through the small grated window. The inspection was +evidently satisfactory, for the heavy iron bar on the +inside was released and the door opened.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Maritelli</span>,” said Armstrong in Italian. +“Is the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">direttore</i> disengaged?”</p> + +<p>“He is in his study, signore, awaiting your arrival.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Maritelli</span> dropped the iron bar back into place with +a loud clang and then led the way up the short flight +of stone steps to the librarian’s study. Armstrong detained +Inez a moment at the top.</p> + +<p>“I brought you in this way because I want you to +see <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> in his frame. It is a picture worthy the +brush of an old master.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Maritelli</span> knocked gently on the door and placed his +ear against it to hear the response. Then he opened +it quietly and bowed as Armstrong and his companion +entered.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Buon’ giorno, padre</span>.” Armstrong gravely saluted +the old man as he looked up. “I have brought to you +another seeker after the gold in your treasure-house.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s face showed genuine delight as he rose and +extended both hands to Inez. “Your wife!” he exclaimed; +“I am glad indeed to greet her.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Armstrong flushed. “No, padre, not my wife, but +her dearest friend, Miss Thayer.”</p> + +<p>The old man let one arm fall to his side with visible +disappointment, which he vainly sought to conceal.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” he said, simply, taking Inez’ hand +in his own. “I have known this dear friend for many +years, and have loved him for the love he gave to my +work. I had hoped to greet his wife here, and to find +that the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">literæ humaniores</i> were to her the elixir of life +that they are to me—and to him.”</p> + +<p>“When I tell her of my visit she will be eager to come +to you as I have,” said Inez, strangely touched by the +keenness of his disappointment. “To-day she could not +leave her guests.”</p> + +<p>“Will you first show Miss Thayer the illuminations +and the rarest of the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">incunabula</span>?” asked Armstrong, +eager to change the subject; “and then will you let +us come back here to talk with you?”</p> + +<p>“With pleasure, my son, with pleasure. What shall +I show her first?”</p> + +<p>“That little ‘Book of Hours’ illuminated by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Francesco +d’Antonio</span>, padre.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> pulled up the great bunch of keys suspended +from the end of his girdle and unlocked one of the +drawers in the ancient wooden desk in front of him.</p> + +<p>“I always wonder how you dare keep so priceless a +treasure in that desk, and why it is not put on exhibition +where visitors may see it,” Armstrong queried.</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> laughed quietly. “There are many other +treasures, my son, equally precious, as you know well, +scattered about in these desks and drawers, where I alone +can find them.”</p> + +<p>“How dare you take the risk?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s face showed a gentle craftiness. “We are in +Italy, my son. If any one could find these gems, any one +could be librarian”—and the old man chuckled quietly +to himself.</p> + +<p>Inez’ eyes were fastened upon a little purple velvet +case inlaid with jewels. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> opened it carefully, exposing +a small volume similarly bound and similarly +adorned. Armstrong eagerly watched the interest in +the girl’s face as the full splendor of the masterpiece impressed +itself upon her—the marvellous delicacy of design, +the gorgeousness of color, the magnificence of the +decoration and the miniatures. Inez drew in her breath +excitedly and bent nearer to the magnifying-glass which +it was necessary to use in tracing the intricacy of the +work.</p> + +<p>“Wonderful!” she cried, and then was silent.</p> + +<p>“It belonged to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo</span> the Magnificent, and represents +the finest of the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">quattrocento</i> work, my daughter,” +explained the old man, pleased as was Armstrong by her +unfeigned admiration. “The patrons of the book in +the fifteenth century considered gems of thought as the +most precious of all jewels. The page containing them +must be written upon the finest and the rarest parchment. +They could not inlay costly stones, so they employed +the most famous artists to place upon the page +in beaten gold and gorgeous colors a representation of +the jewels and miniatures as perfect as art at its highest +could produce. Can you wonder, my daughter, that +men brought up in the school of neo-Platonism should +look upon the invention of printing as an evil and an +innovation to be opposed?”</p> + +<p>Inez would not permit <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> to close the volume until +she had feasted her eyes upon every page.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Have you not prepared me for an anti-climax?” +she asked, with a sigh, as Armstrong suggested a visit +to the room of illuminations. “Surely there is nothing +else here to surpass what I have just seen.”</p> + +<p>The librarian answered. “Nothing to surpass it, +truly, but other volumes equally interesting.”</p> + +<p>The old man led them into a larger room filled with +wooden cases whose glass tops were covered with faded +green curtains. Costly tapestries lined the walls, but +Inez’ attention was quickly taken from them as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> +pulled aside the curtains and disclosed the resplendent +wealth beneath. Heavy choir-books, classic manuscripts, +books of hours, breviaries embellished by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo Monaco</span>, +master of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fra Angelico</span>, by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Benozzo Gozzoli</span>, whose +frescos still make the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Riccardi</span> famous, and other artists +whose names have long since been forgotten, but +whose work remains as an everlasting monument to a +departed art. Magnificent examples of every school, +from the early Byzantine to the decadent style of the +sixteenth century, combined to teach the present the omnipotence +of the past.</p> + +<p>From case to case they passed, their guide indicating +the variations and the significance of the different +schools, out into the great library itself, in which, with +its noble yet simple proportions as laid down by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>, +Inez found a relief after the gorgeousness and +grandeur of the last hour. Armstrong pointed out to +her the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">plutei</i> upon which the great books rested, and to +which they now remained chained as in the olden days, +four centuries back, when they began their eternal vigil. +Life outside the old walls had changed mightily since +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cosimo de’ Medici</span>, the first grand-duke, laid their +foundations. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cosimo</span>, “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">pater patriæ</i>,” the real founder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +of the collection, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pietro</span> and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giovanni de’ Medici</span> had +come and gone; <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo il Magnifico</span> had lived and +died, bequeathing to them his illustrious name; Charles +VIII. of France had destroyed the power of the house +of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Medici</span>, the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Medici</span> had again regained their own, +the house of Lorraine had succeeded them, the separate +states had been merged into a great kingdom—and still +the volumes held their places at the end of their chains, +as if to prove the immutability of learning as compared +with the changeability of princes.</p> + +<p>At Armstrong’s suggestion, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> led them back into +his study, where the old man again took his place at +his desk, as his visitors seated themselves where they +could best watch him and listen to his words. It was, +indeed, as Armstrong had expressed it, a picture for an +old master. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was clad in the black silk soutane of +his learned order, with the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">biretta</i> upon his head. He +was spare, and the skin upon his face and hands was as +dried and colored as the ancient parchment of the books +with which he lived. The dim light coming through +the stained-glass window enhanced the weirdness of his +aspect, and as one looked he seemed the personification +of the ancient written manuscript vivified and speaking +the words which one would have expected to read +upon the page.</p> + +<p>“My daughter,” he was saying to Inez, “you, too, +are a humanist, as my young friend and I are, or you +could not manifest so true an understanding as you do. +For humanism, my daughter, is not only the love of antiquity: +it is the worship of it—a worship carried so +far that it is not limited to adoration alone, but which +forces one to reproduce. By the same token the humanist +is the man who not only knows intimately the ancients +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>and is inspired by them: it is he who is so fascinated +by their magic spell that he copies them, imitates +them, rehearses their lessons, adopts their models and +their methods, their examples and their gods, their spirit +and their tongue.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 341px;"><a name="fp54" id="fp54"></a> +<img src="images/fp54.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="SLOWLY THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK UPON INEZ’ +BRAIN. SHE WAS NO LONGER IN THE PRESENT—SHE +WAS A WOMAN OF ITALY OF FOUR CENTURIES BACK" title="" /> +<span class="caption">SLOWLY THE SPELL BEGAN TO WORK UPON INEZ’ +BRAIN. SHE WAS NO LONGER IN THE PRESENT—SHE +WAS A WOMAN OF ITALY OF FOUR CENTURIES BACK</span> +</div> + +<p>Then <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> passed on in his conversation to the old-time +writers themselves. The little study was poorly +ventilated, and the air was heavy. The ancient tomes +exuded their peculiar odor, and the low, sing-song voice +of the speaker seemed far removed from the life they +had just left outside. Slowly the spell began to work +upon Inez’ brain. She was no longer in the present—she +was a woman of Italy of four centuries back. +Petrarch, with his laurel-crowned head, rose up before +her and recited verses written for Laura; Politian gave +to her of his wisdom; <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Machiavelli</span> discussed Florentine +politics with her. It was not the voice of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> the +librarian which she heard—it was the veritable voice +from the dead and buried past. She furtively glanced +at Armstrong and saw in his face a light which she +knew Helen had never seen there, and in her heart she +felt a guilty joyousness at the advantage she had gained. +It was <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> sitting at the old desk now—<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> +the master of art, of sculpture, the forerunner, the man-god +against the god-man. She pressed her hand to her +head; it was dripping moisture. Would he never stop? +It was becoming fearsome, unbearable. Her eyes were +fixed upon the aged priestly clad figure before her; +she could not move them. What power held her, what +magic controlled even her thoughts? She tried to speak +to Armstrong, to tell him that she was ill, but her mouth +seemed parched and she could not speak. She looked +at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s chair again. The old man was no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +there. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Machiavelli</span> had taken his place and was uttering +diatribes against the state. She must cry out—she could +not. She started to her feet—then she fell back, and +all became a blank. When she revived, a few moments +later, it was in the sunny enclosure of the cloister garden, +whither Armstrong had anxiously carried her, and +where the fresh air served to relieve the tension and to +counteract the influence which had so overpowered her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>V</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>By mutual consent, Miss Thayer and Armstrong +decided not to mention the rather dramatic finale +to their first excursion to the library. Inez experienced +the deepest mortification, while Jack blamed himself +severely that he had not watched his companion +more carefully. If he had done this, he repeated to himself, +he might easily have anticipated and avoided the +unpleasant climax to an otherwise thoroughly enjoyable +morning. Miss Thayer, however, would not listen to his +apologies: he had accepted her as a comrade, and she +had proved herself unequal to the test. Armstrong +tried to reassure her, but his efforts were not eminently +successful.</p> + +<p>The whole affair, in spite of their disclaimers, made a +considerable impression upon them both. Armstrong +knew that it had not been weakness alone; for even his +brief acquaintance with her told him that strength was +a salient point in her character. She was impressionable—he +realized that—but surely not to the extent of +losing all control over herself. Was it—and Armstrong +feared lest Inez should read his mind as the thought +came to him—was it that same irresistible influence of +those ancient spirits, coming out from the past to her +as they had so many times to him, recognizing her as a +reincarnation of themselves, and claiming her, even for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +that, brief moment of unconsciousness, as a part of what +had gone before?</p> + +<p>Inez pleaded a headache upon reaching the villa, +and asked that her lunch be sent to her room; but +it was long after <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> had left the tray upon +the table that she was able to taste, even sparingly, +the tempting delicacies which were placed before her. +What can be more searching than a woman’s self-examination? +She had told Armstrong that she blamed +herself for her weakness; so she did, but it was not +wholly the weakness of losing consciousness. Who was +this man, and what this influence which had so suddenly +entered into her life and assumed such immediate control +over her? She felt that she could resist either separately, +but together they produced a power which she +questioned her ability to oppose. And the strange part +of it all was that no one was forcing it upon her. She +knew perfectly well that she need never go to the library +again unless she chose; but she knew equally well what +her choice must inevitably be, if the opportunity were +offered her.</p> + +<p>Even as she recalled her experience, a thrill half of +delight, half of apprehension, passed over her. What +did it all mean? Armstrong compelled her respect, but +it was ridiculous even to wonder whether or not the +sentiments he inspired were of a more serious nature. +The subjects in which he was interested appealed to her +highest self and fascinated her, but beyond this what +possible force could they possess to render her so immediately +subservient to their demands? What was +there about it all which made it seem so inexpressively +delicious? And what of him, of this man above whose +head the ancients had already placed the halo of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +approval, who stood to her as the personification of ideal +manhood?</p> + +<p>These were some of the questions Inez Thayer asked +herself that afternoon, wrestling within and striving +honestly to decide her course; but even as she did so +she found her thoughts again centering themselves upon +Armstrong as she closed her eyes and allowed herself +to be carried back to the experiences of the morning. +She had no reasonable excuse to leave Florence, which +instinctively she felt to be the safest thing to do; and, +besides this, her spirit revolted at the thought that she +could not meet the problem face to face and master it. +She must do it, she would do it; and, having finally arrived +at this determination, she came down, just before +dinner, and joined her friends in the garden, where +they were enjoying the soft close of the perfect Italian +day.</p> + +<p>“There you are!” Helen welcomed her with outstretched +arms. “Is your headache better?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you,” Inez replied, forcing a smile; +“the air was very close in the library, and then, too, I +found so much to make me thoughtful.”</p> + +<p>“Then you were not disappointed?” Emory asked.</p> + +<p>“Disappointed? It was wonderful. You don’t know +how much you all missed.”</p> + +<p>“You look as if Jack had shown you some spooks,” +remarked Eustis; “you are as white as one yourself.”</p> + +<p>The color quickly returned to Inez’ face. “I am +always like that when I have one of these wretched headaches,” +she explained. “But, truly, I never had such +a remarkable experience. I can quite understand Mr. +Armstrong’s devotion. I never knew before how fascinating +such learning really is.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did he actually conjure up those old fellows and put +them through their paces for you?” Emory asked.</p> + +<p>Miss Thayer was in no mood for bantering. “It is +not possible for you to understand without experiencing +it yourself,” she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Or even afterward, I suspect,” Bertha Sinclair +added, slyly.</p> + +<p>“I am so glad that you enjoyed it,” said Helen. “I +couldn’t get much out of Jack, and I was afraid that +you had passed a stupid morning and that the headache +was the natural result.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never forget it—never!” Inez murmured.</p> + +<p>Helen regarded her attentively for a moment. “I +had no idea it would make so strong an impression on +you,” she said at length. “Now that it is over, you and +Jack will both feel better satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“You must see <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, Helen, and let him show you +those wonderful books and explain everything, just as +he did to us.”</p> + +<p>“So I will, sometime,” Helen smiled. “Perhaps he +could bring out my dormant possibilities.”</p> + +<p>“It is time we dressed for dinner,” remarked Mary +Sinclair, rising. “You and Inez are already <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en grande +tenue</i>, but the rest of us are shockingly unconventional.”</p> + +<p>As the Sinclair girls hurried into the house, closely +followed by the men, Helen leaned against the balustrade +at the end of the bowling-green and watched the deepening +color which touched alike the spires of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Santa +Croce</span> and the turret of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Palazzo Vecchio</span>, gleamed +on the dome of the Cathedral and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giotto</span>’s tower, and +spread like wine over the placid surface of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span>. +Beyond the river rose the basilica of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Miniato</span>, its +ancient pediment sharply outlined against the sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Helen’s thoughts wandered even farther away than her +eyes. Inez watched her for several moments before slipping +her arm about her waist.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Inez!” Helen was startled for an instant. +“Did you ever see such a wonderful spot as this?” +she continued, recovering herself. “Some new beauty +discloses itself uninvited hour by hour. Every time I +come into the garden I find some lovely flower I never +saw before, or meet some sweet odor which makes me +shut my eyes and just draw it in with delight. Each +time I look toward Florence the view is different, and +each new view more beautiful than the last. Oh, Inez +darling, is it an enchanted palace that Jack has brought +me to, or is it just because I am so blissfully, supremely, +foolishly happy?” Helen embraced her friend enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>“Let us call it the enchanted palace, dear,” Inez +answered as Helen released her, “and you the modern +Circe, with power to make all about you as beautiful +and as happy as the ancient Circe to cast malign influences.”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed. “Why not take it further and say +that the transformation of the ancient Circe is the final +triumph of Uncle Peabody’s labors? Had his theories +been in force among the friends of Ulysses, the fair +lady could never have turned them into swine. But +tell me, did you not find Jack a very different person +from what you had expected after seeing him here at +home?”</p> + +<p>“I did, indeed,” assented Inez, soberly.</p> + +<p>“Is he not simply splendid?” Helen’s face beamed +with pride. “It was just as much of a surprise to me. +Of course, I have always known that he was interested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +in all these things, but it has only been since we were +married that I have realized how much he actually +knows.—I wish I thought there was even the slightest +chance of his being able to lead me up to his heights, +he is so eager for it. I shall give him an opportunity +to try his experiment, of course, but the +trouble is that in spite of the interest and fascination +which I do feel, his hobby always seems to me to be +hemmed in with needless limitations. For my part, I +don’t see why we can’t take the best these master spirits +of the past can give us, just as Jack says, but without +ourselves becoming a part of the past.—You see how +absolutely hopeless I am. I wonder how in the world he +ever came to be attracted to me.”</p> + +<p>“You are the only one who wonders.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know that my hair is not red, and that I +don’t squint, and all that, but Jack is so fascinated by +everything scholarly that I don’t see why he didn’t +select an intellectual wife. Why, I don’t even wear +glasses!”</p> + +<p>Inez smiled at the picture Helen drew. “The rest +of us girls understand why he made just the selection +he did, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“I never wanted to be intellectual before. Until now +I have always considered the caricatures of the Boston +Browning woman as typical of the highly educated +species; but you are showing me that a girl can be human +and intellectual at the same time.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could show you that you make too much +of a mountain out of this intellectual bugbear,” Inez +replied, candidly. “Your husband is a very unusual +man. His interest in the humanities is beyond anything +one can appreciate without seeing him as I saw him this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +morning. He longs to take you with him into this life, +and if I were in your place I should let him be the one +to discover my lack of understanding, if I really did +lack it, instead of insisting upon it as a foregone conclusion. +For myself, I don’t take much stock in it. I +remember too well how quick a certain Miss Cartwright +was at school to grasp new ideas, and I have not noticed +any serious retrogression since.”</p> + +<p>Helen pondered carefully over her friend’s criticism +before replying. “I suppose it does seem like obstinacy,” +she said, finally—“to him as well as to you; +yet to myself it appears perfectly consistent. The one +thing which gives me an idea of the extent of his devotion +is my music. You know how I adore it, how +much a part of my life it has always been—yet it means +nothing to Jack, and he therefore takes no particular +interest in it. He went to the Symphonies and the +Opera with me while we were engaged, and to concerts +and recitals, but I knew all the time that it was just to +please me. I made up my mind that when we were married +I would keep up my interest in this ‘devotion’ of +mine only as much as I could without having it interfere +with those things which he cared for or which we +could enjoy together. But the fact that music means +less to him than it means to me does not make me love +him any the less.”</p> + +<p>“But you don’t enter into this particular interest of +his, even to please him, as he did to please you.”</p> + +<p>“Because I appreciate from the experience I have +just mentioned how little real satisfaction it would give +either one of us. Looking back, I feel that I was positively +selfish to let him go to those concerts with me, and +I shall never inflict them on him again. I am sure that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +he knows how I feel, and I think he ought to be grateful +for my consideration.”</p> + +<p>Inez pressed Helen’s hand. “You ought to know +best, dear,” she answered. “You both possess such +wonderful possibilities that it would be a shame not to +combine them. It seems to me that you might come to +an appreciation of each other’s interests by becoming +familiar with them.—I wonder if you realize what a man +your husband is?”</p> + +<p>Helen leaned over and kissed her impulsively. “I +realize more than I ever intend to let him know, dear +child. He would become unbearably conceited were he +even to guess how much he has already become to me. +I really did not want to marry him—or to marry any +one—but he swept away every objection, just as he +always does, and now I find myself wondering how +in the world I ever existed without him. Oh, Inez”—Helen’s +face became tense in her earnestness—“we girls +think we know a whole lot about marriage. We anticipate +it—we dread it; but, when one actually enters +into her new estate, she knows how infinitely more it is +to be anticipated, if happy, than her fondest dream. +But if unhappy—then her dread must have been infinitesimal +compared with the reality.”</p> + +<p>“‘Marriage is either a complete union or a complete +isolation,’” quoted Inez.</p> + +<p>“As I tell you, Jack and I understand each other +perfectly,” Helen continued, confidently, “and that +means so much to a girl. One of the first things I told +him, after we became engaged, was that if our affection +stood for anything it must stand for everything. If +at any time while we were engaged, or even after we +were married, he felt that he had made a mistake in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +thinking me the one woman in the world for him, he was +to come to me frankly and say so, and together we would +plan how best to meet the situation. Suppose, for instance, +that Jack met some one whom he really loved better +than me. It would be an awful experience, but how +much less of a tragedy to recognize the fact than to live +on, a hollow, miserable existence, such as we see in so +many instances around us.”</p> + +<p>“And he has not confessed to you yet?”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” Helen laughed, “and we shall have been +married six weeks to-morrow. That is a pretty good +start, is it not?”</p> + +<p>“But how about yourself—have you the same privilege?”</p> + +<p>“Of course; but that is not important, for I shall +never see any one fit to ride in the same automobile with +Jack.”</p> + +<p>“What did you say about my automobile? Has it +arrived?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s face was filled with eager expectation as +he came up behind Helen, followed by Uncle Peabody. +He drew her affectionately toward him.</p> + +<p>“You wretch!” cried Helen, “you have been eavesdropping.”</p> + +<p>“Not an eavesdrop,” protested Jack, “and I can +prove it by a witness. When I came down-stairs I +looked for my beloved spouse upon the terrace and +found her not. The gentle <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> confided to me that +you and the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Signorina</span> Thayer were in the garden; I +set out upon my quest and found you here discussing +my automobile or some one else’s. Again I ask you, +have you news of its arrival?”</p> + +<p>“No, Jack—no news as yet; and you make out so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +good a case that I must absolve you. Since you insist +on knowing, we were discussing the very prosaic subject +of matrimony.”</p> + +<p>“Why discourage Miss Thayer from making the attempt +simply because of your own sad case?” Armstrong +queried, releasing his wife and seating himself +beside her on the edge of the balustrade. “Marriage +is a lottery—so saith the philosopher. We all know +the preponderance of blanks and small prizes, yet each +one feels certain that he will be the lucky one. Once in +a while a chap pulls out the capital prize, and that encourages +the others, though it ought to discourage them, +because it lessens the chances just so much. But what +I object to is the growling afterward, when each should +realize that he is getting exactly what he ought to have +expected.”</p> + +<p>“But it is not fair that both you and Helen should +have drawn the lucky numbers,” Inez declared. “It +makes it so hopeless for the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>“There, Sir Fisher,” cried Helen, “you have gained +the compliment for which you strove. Art satisfied?”</p> + +<p>“No one has drawn me yet,” suggested Uncle Peabody, +“and I am a capital prize—I admit it.”</p> + +<p>“It is a shame to throw cold water on Miss Thayer’s +beautiful sentiment,” continued Armstrong. “Such +thoughts are so rare that they should be encouraged; +but the facts of the case are that the capital prizes +in the men’s lottery were discontinued long ago. No—among +the girls they are still to be won at rare intervals, +but the only way to distinguish the men is by looking up +their rating in Bradstreet’s, or their mother’s family +name in the Social Register. Other than this, one man +is as bad as another, if not worse.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Inez looked at Armstrong for a moment with a puzzled +expression, but failed to find any suggestion that +he was speaking lightly. And yet—what a change in +attitude from the morning! She hesitated to turn the +subject upon what seemed to her to be forbidden ground, +yet she could not resist opposing his expressions, even +though they might be uttered flippantly. Her voice contained +a reproach.</p> + +<p>“You spoke differently of men this morning.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong turned to her quickly. “This morning?” +he repeated. “Oh, but I was referring to the humanists, +and to ancient ones at that. I am talking now of +men in general, rather than of those rare exceptions, +ancient or modern, who have succeeded in separating +themselves from their commonplace contemporaries. Of +course, my respect for the old-timers is supreme, because +their great accomplishments were in the face of +so much greater obstacles. Since then the world has +had five hundred years in which to degenerate.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t pay any attention to him, Inez,” Helen interrupted, +complacently. “He is simply trying to start +an argument, and he does not believe a word he says. +He really looks upon men as infinitely superior beings +in the past, present, and future, and this self-abnegation +on the part of himself and his sex is only a passing conceit.”</p> + +<p>“I refuse to be side-tracked,” Armstrong insisted. “I +grant that the conversation started more in jest than +in earnest, but I maintain my position, none the less. +Modern civilization has brought to us a wonderful +material development, but intellectual advance, instead +of keeping abreast of the material, has positively retrograded.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You really make me feel ashamed to be living in +such an abominable age,” suggested Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>Inez was serious. “I am quite incompetent to carry +on this discussion with you, Mr. Armstrong,” she said, +disregarding the others, “and I admire, as you know, +the marvellous accomplishments of these ‘old-timers,’ +as you call them, wondering at their power to overcome +the obstacles which we know existed. Yet I like to +believe that the ages which have passed have marked +an advance on all sides rather than a retrogression.”</p> + +<p>“So should I like to,” assented Armstrong, “if I +could; but look at the facts. William James has just +succeeded in making philosophy popular, but Plato and +Aristotle gave it to us before the birth of Christ. We +enthuse over Shakespeare and Dante and Milton, but +Homer and Virgil gave us the grandest of poetry two +thousand years ago. The <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">quattrocento</i>, that period +which so fires me with enthusiasm, gave us <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Raphael</span> +as an artist, together with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> +as the foremost examples of humanists. Whom have we +had since to equal them?”</p> + +<p>“All this is beyond argument,” Inez admitted. “But +is this the fault of the men or of the times? Conditions +are so changed that the same kind of work can never +be done again. The telephone, the telegraph, railroad +trains, fast steamships, the daily papers—everything +distracts the modern worker from devoting himself +wholly and absolutely to his single purpose; but with +this distraction is it not also true that the modern worker +gives to the world what the world really needs most under +the present conditions? In other words, would not +these same great men, if set down in the twentieth century,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +produce work very similar to what modern great +men have given and are giving us?”</p> + +<p>“I should be sorry enough to think so,” affirmed +Jack. “What a pity it would be!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody’s mood had changed from amusement +to interest. “If I really thought you were sincere in +the attitude you take,” he said, addressing Armstrong, +“I could prescribe no better cure for your complaint +than to force you to subject yourself, for one single +week, to those same conditions which you seem to admire +so much.”</p> + +<p>“If you refer to conveniences, Mr. Cartwright,” interrupted +Armstrong, “I will admit without argument +that you are right. These are wholly the result of material +development.”</p> + +<p>“Let us confine ourselves to intellectual achievements +if you choose,” continued Uncle Peabody. “Without +an intellect, could one harness steam and electricity and +make them obedient to the human will? Is not a wireless +message an echo from the brain? What is the telephone +if not a product of thought?”</p> + +<p>“You and Miss Thayer are arguing my case far better +than I can do it myself,” replied Armstrong, undisturbed. +“The triumphs of Watt and Edison and +Marconi and Bell are all intellectual, even though utilitarian. +Each of these men has proved himself humanistic, +in that he has given to the world the best that is +in him, and not simply modified or readapted some previous +achievement. If they were not limited by living +in an age of specialization they might even have been +humanists. Right here in Italy you see the same thing +to-day. The Italians are beyond any other race intellectually +fit to rule the world now as they once did, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +it is simply because they have been unable to withstand +materialism that they have not reclaimed their own.”</p> + +<p>“Just what do you mean by ‘humanism,’ Jack?” +Helen asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>“The final definition of modern humanism will not +be written for several years,” Armstrong answered. +“The world is not yet ready for it, and I am afraid +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s creed of ancient humanism would strike you as +being rather heavy.”</p> + +<p>“Let me see if I could comprehend it.” Helen looked +across to Inez, and the eyes of the two girls met with +mutual understanding. “Can you repeat it?”</p> + +<p>“I know it word for word,” her husband replied, +eagerly, delighted to have Helen manifest an interest. +“It was the first lesson the old man taught me, years +ago. ‘The humanist,’ <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> says, ‘is the man who +not only knows intimately the ancients and is inspired +by them: it is he who is so fascinated by their magic +spell that he copies them, imitates them, rehearses their +lessons, adopts their models and their methods, their examples +and their gods, their spirit and their tongue.’”</p> + +<p>Helen was visibly disappointed. “I thought I had +an idea,” she said, slowly, “but I was wrong. Inez +used the word ‘humanities’ a few moments ago, and I +once heard President Eliot say that this was simply another +name for a liberal education—teaching men to +drink in the inspiration of all the ages and to seek to +make their age the best.”</p> + +<p>“You are not wrong, Helen,” continued Armstrong, +“unless you understand President Eliot to mean that the +ages which have come since these great men lived have +been able to add particularly to what has gone before. +All that is included in what <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> says.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then the present, which I love so well, means nothing?”</p> + +<p>“It means a great deal.” Armstrong laughed at the +injured tone of Helen’s voice. “The great material +achievements of the present, which you just heard cited +by Miss Thayer and Uncle Peabody, are of vast importance, +but the age does not stand out as a period of intellectual +progression. The achievements themselves, +and the new conditions which they introduce, make that +impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Can we not admire the past and enjoy what it has +given us without becoming a part of it ourselves?” persisted +Helen.</p> + +<p>“Not if we remain true to our ideals. I spoke just +now of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> as being the foremost +examples of humanists. By that I mean that they +represent the highest point of intellectual manhood. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Da +Vinci</span> was a great writer, a great painter, a great scientist, +a great engineer, a great mechanician, while +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Buonarroti</span> was famous not only as a sculptor, but +also as a painter, an architect, and a poet. And these +men had to develop their own precedent, while all +who have striven for more than mediocrity since then +have propped themselves up on the work of these and +other great masters. Can you wonder that my own +great ambition, quite impossible of accomplishment, is +to emulate these men—not in the same pursuits, but in +some way, in any way, which enables me to give to the +world the best that is in me. Should I gratify myself +in this, that which I accomplished would be done simply +in the fulfilment of my effort, and I should gain my +recompense in the knowledge that it <em>was</em> my best. This +is my understanding of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s creed.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All this is most interesting,” admitted Helen. “It +is indeed splendid to know the ancients intimately, and +to receive their inspiration. It is fine to imitate them +and to rehearse their lessons, but I don’t see why we +should bind ourselves down to the old-time limitations +by using their methods when, to my mind, our own +methods are so much better suited to modern conditions?”</p> + +<p>“Your position is fully justified, Helen, if you really +believe these methods to be limitations,” replied Armstrong, +seriously. “For my part, I do not feel this. I +accept the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> creed without qualification. I grant +you that many things of the past are limitations, but +there are certain cardinal principles which must remain +the same so long as the world lasts and which are not +subject to what you call ‘modern conditions.’”</p> + +<p>“To be wholly consistent, Jack,” pursued Uncle Peabody, +“should you not adopt their tongue—as called +for in the creed?”</p> + +<p>“Not necessarily, as the ‘creed’ is, of course, idealistic; +but the only reason I do not do so is because of +the limitations which are placed upon us—this time by +modern civilization. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> and I converse for hours +together in the Latin tongue, but it is very seldom that +I find the opportunity to do this. Why is it that Latin +is used in medicine, in botany, in science, to give names +to various specimens or species? Simply because French, +German, Italian, English may be forgotten languages +a few centuries hence, but Latin—the so-called dead +language—will be as enduring then as now.”</p> + +<p>“I can never hope to become as much of an enthusiast +as you, Mr. Armstrong,” Inez said, finally, as the +others gave up the argument in despair; “and I suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +you will never forgive me if I say that I fear it +would be very uncomfortable for me if I did. You +must simply let me browse around the edges as a neophyte +while you and the master quaff the nectar and +ambrosia of the gods.”</p> + +<p>“And I cannot even do that,” added Helen, rising +from the balustrade. “I cannot give up my dear present +even to agree with my learned husband. You don’t +want me to say that I am sorry I am living among all +these imperfect conditions when I really find them very +satisfactory and enjoyable? It is wrong of you so to +break down my modern idols. There are our guests,” +she continued, as a laughing group appeared on the +veranda. “As penance I decree that you shall take +each of us by the hand and lead us back to the villa—the +Humanist flanked by the Pagan and the Christian. +Arise, thou ancient one, and lead us on!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>VI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The visits which Armstrong and Miss Thayer +made to the library became of daily occurrence. +Encouraged by his companion’s interest, and the +eagerness with which she assimilated the enthusiasm +which he and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> were only too willing to share with +her, Armstrong promptly embraced a scheme for definite +work suggested to him by the librarian. Inez at first +proved only a sympathetic spectator, but by the third or +fourth day she found herself a distinct part of the +working force. She demurred half-heartedly, but when +it became evident that she could really make herself of +service she entered into it with characteristic intensity +which increased from day to day.</p> + +<p>Soon after the departure of the guests the automobile +arrived, and transformed Armstrong from a +Humanist into an Egoist and then into a Mechanist. +For the moment the material concern took precedence +over the intellectual.</p> + +<p>“Of course I expect to have the chauffeur do the +work once we are under way,” he half apologized to +Uncle Peabody, who with a good-natured interest watched +him taking the precious machine to pieces; “but before +I trust it to any one I must understand it thoroughly +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right, quite right,” Uncle Peabody assented,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +cheerfully. “I believe in that theory entirely. I have +noticed when my friends have found themselves stalled +on the road that it never annoys them half so much +if they can explain the reason why. Besides, from a +secondary consideration, I suppose it adds something to +the safety to know the machine yourself.”</p> + +<p>As the car had arrived in advance of the chauffeur, +Armstrong had plenty of time to study the mechanism. +It came to pieces with consummate ease. Its new +owner had never claimed much knowledge along these +lines, but the simplicity of this particular machine increased +his respect for his judgment as a purchaser and +his natural though hitherto undeveloped ability as a mechanic.</p> + +<p>“These Frenchmen,” he confided enthusiastically to +Uncle Peabody, “have the rest of the world beaten to +a stand-still in building automobiles. My hat is off to +them.”</p> + +<p>“Would you not be even more comfortable if you removed +your shirt as well?” suggested Uncle Peabody, +mischievously, as he glanced sympathetically at Armstrong’s +face, from which the perspiration rolled down +onto his collar in response to his unusual exertions and +the heat of the full Italian sun.</p> + +<p>“It is nearly to pieces now,” Armstrong replied, complacently. +“I will wait until it is cooler before I set it +up again.”</p> + +<p>True to his word, Armstrong began work on the +restoration early next morning, but the heat of the day +found him still at his labors and in no cheerful frame of +mind. Uncle Peabody’s philosophical suggestions had +proved unacceptable some hours before. Helen’s remark +that she did not believe the three extra pieces Jack held<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +despairingly in his hand had come from that particular +machine at all brought forth such a withering expression +of pitying contempt that she flew back to the house in +alarm. Even the servants found that the opposite side +of the villa demanded their especial care. A truce was +declared for the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">colazione</i>, but Armstrong devoured his +repast in silence, showing no interest in the animated +conversation, and with scant apologies left the table long +in advance of the others to resume his task.</p> + +<p>At five o’clock a dusty <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vettura</i> drove noisily into the +driveway, and from his point of vantage, lying on his +back underneath the automobile, Armstrong saw Mr. +Ferdinand De Peyster alight. With a curse muttered, +not from any antipathy to his visitor, but simply on +general principles, he laboriously extricated himself from +his position with a view to the extension of hospitality. +De Peyster saw the movement and hastily approached.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand De Peyster was a distinct individuality, +which in a degree explained the criticism which some +of his friends passed upon him. His foreign descent, +though now tempered by two generations of American +influence, was probably responsible for the fact that he +was “different from other men.” Always faultlessly +dressed, his taste followed the continental styles rather +than those which other men about him were in the habit +of adopting, so while Americans in Florence were clad in +flannels, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">négligé</i> shirts, and white buckskins, De Peyster +appeared at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> immaculate in the +conventional lounging-coat, tucked shirt and lavender +gloves, with white spats over his patent-leather shoes. +There was more of a contrast between visitor and guest +at that moment than Armstrong realized as he emerged +in his old clothes, thoroughly soaked through with perspiration,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +and with his hands and face grimy with oil +and dirt.</p> + +<p>De Peyster drew back instinctively as the full vision +of Jack’s figure presented itself. “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Comprenez vous +français</span>?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong stopped in his advance as he heard the +question and noted the superior tone in which it was +delivered. Then the humor of the situation appealed +to him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” he replied, respectfully, “or English, if +you prefer.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster’s face brightened. “Ah! Mr. Armstrong +brought you over with him?” he remarked, becoming almost +sociable.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” Jack replied, truthfully. “Is there anything +I can do for you, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I am Mr. De Peyster,” said Ferdinand, with condescension—“a +friend of your master’s in America. Is +he at home this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—”</p> + +<p>Before Armstrong could continue De Peyster approached +nearer to him and lowered his voice. “I say—is +there a Miss Thayer from America visiting here +just now?”</p> + +<p>A quick movement on De Peyster’s part deposited a +franc in Jack’s grimy palm. Holding his hand in front +of him, his astonished look alternated between the piece +of silver and his friend’s face until he found himself +unable to keep up the farce.</p> + +<p>“De Peyster, you are a fraud!” Armstrong laughed +boisterously at the look of dismay in Ferdinand’s face +as a realization came to him. “Do you mean to tell +me that the joys of a honeymoon and life in Italy have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +wrought so many changes that you don’t recognize +me?”</p> + +<p>“But can you blame me?” De Peyster joined in the +merriment. “Run and get some one to tell you how you +look.”</p> + +<p>The sound of this unexpected hilarity reached the +terrace, and Uncle Peabody, flanked by both of the girls, +came rushing out fearful lest Jack’s problem had resulted +in temporary mental derangement. A glance at +the picture before them, however, explained the situation +better than words, and Helen hurried forward to greet +her visitor while Inez followed behind.</p> + +<p>“Ferdy De Peyster—in the flesh!” cried Helen. +“What does this mean, and when did you reach Florence?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong gave him no opportunity to reply. “He +prefers to speak French, Helen, and he is just throwing +his money around.”</p> + +<p>Then turning to De Peyster and exhibiting his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pourboire</i>, +he repeated, “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Comprenez vous français</span>?” while +both men went off again into a paroxysm of laughter.</p> + +<p>“What is the joke?” Helen asked, looking from one +to the other completely mystified.</p> + +<p>“It is a good one—and on me,” replied De Peyster. +“I took him for the chauffeur, you know.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked at her husband. “Is it safe for me to +laugh now, Jack?” she asked. “I am glad something +has happened to put you in good-humor. Can you be +induced to leave your work for the rest of the day and +make yourself presentable to join us in the garden?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong cast a despairing glance at the machine.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he said. “I shall be fresher in the morning, +anyway, and I am sure I can fix it up then.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nothing like knowing all about it yourself, Jack,” +Uncle Peabody remarked, innocently. “These French +machines are so simple!”</p> + +<p>“You take the girls back to the garden,” Armstrong +replied, emphatically, “and kindly devote your attention +to your own theories, or I will put you at work on the +blamed thing yourself to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster greeted Inez effusively, paying but little +attention to Helen and Uncle Peabody as they strolled +back to the garden, while Jack disappeared in-doors.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say!” he exclaimed as they reached the balustrade. +“How did Armstrong happen to find a place +like this? Is it not simply splendid, Inez?”</p> + +<p>Inez Thayer resented something—she did not quite +know what. She had been expecting De Peyster’s arrival +daily, yet now that he had come she was still unprepared. +She could find no fault with his attentions +except that they had been too assiduous. Perhaps it was +that, try as she could, she had been quite unable to convince +him that his devotion was useless. He accepted +each rebuff philosophically and bided his time.</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> skilfully arranged the chairs and laid the +little table, placed, as Helen had taught her, in a spot +commanding the exquisite view of the valley and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San +Miniato</span> beyond. Luscious <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">fragole</i>, cooling <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">gelati</i>, seducing +little Italian <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">paste</i>, as only Helen’s cook could +make them, and a refreshing <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Asti</span> cup replaced the tea +which the girls had decided would be less acceptable on +this particular day; and by the time all was in readiness +Armstrong joined them clothed in his proper mind and +raiment.</p> + +<p>The conversation turned upon the voyage across.</p> + +<p>“We had an awfully jolly crowd on board,” said De<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +Peyster. “There were Emory and Eustis, who you say +have just left you, and then there were three charming +married women who insisted on my playing bridge with +them every afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“They did not have to insist very hard, did they, +Ferdy?” interrupted Helen—“with your reputation for +gallantry.”</p> + +<p>Ferdinand smiled complacently. “Making up a +fourth at bridge comes under the definition of ‘first +aid to the wounded,’” he replied, “but I did not object +at all to being the doctor. Their conversation was +so clever, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Clever conversation always helps good bridge,” +Armstrong interrupted, dryly; but De Peyster was already +deep in his story.</p> + +<p>“One afternoon they had a discussion as to how large +an allowance for personal expenses would make each one +perfectly happy,—funny subject, wasn’t it? Well, one +of them said ten thousand a year would take care of her +troubles nicely; the second one was more modest and +thought five thousand would do,—but what do you think +my partner said? She was a demure little lady from +Chicago and had only been married a year and a half.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t keep us in suspense, Ferdy,” said Helen, as +De Peyster yielded to the humor of his recollections.</p> + +<p>“Truly, it was awfully funny,” he continued. “She +looked rather frightened when the conversation began, +and when they urged her to set a price she said, ‘I +would be perfectly satisfied if I could afford to spend +just what I am spending.’”</p> + +<p>“She had a conscience—that is the only difference between +her and the other women,” Armstrong commented.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” added Helen; “but I’ll guarantee that in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +another year she will be getting a divorce from her husband +on the ground of incompatibility of income.”</p> + +<p>“Then in the evenings,” De Peyster went on, “the +men got together in the smoke-room, but I think we +drank too much. I always felt uncomfortable when I +got up next morning.”</p> + +<p>“Another encouragement for my <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">magnum opus!</i>” exclaimed +Uncle Peabody. “I am going to invent a wine +possessing such qualities that the more one drinks of it +the better he will feel next morning.”</p> + +<p>“If you succeed you will have clubdom at your feet,” +Armstrong replied, while De Peyster feelingly nodded +assent.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind if I invited Inez to drive with me +to-morrow, Helen?” ventured Ferdinand, abruptly, looking +anxiously at Miss Thayer. “I know you honeymooners +won’t mind being left alone if I can persuade +her.”</p> + +<p>“By all means, Ferdy—unless Inez has some other +plans. Jack has been making her ride his hobby ever +since she arrived, and I have no doubt she will be glad +enough to escape us for a little breathing-spell.”</p> + +<p>“If you put it that way I shall certainly decline”—Inez +failed to show any great enthusiasm—“but otherwise +I shall be very glad to go.”</p> + +<p>“Jack intends to put his automobile together to-morrow,” +Uncle Peabody remarked, “so it will be just as +well not to have any one outside the family within hearing +distance.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong tried to wither Uncle Peabody with a +glance, but ran up against a smiling face so beaming +with good-nature that even real anger would have been +dispelled.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>“For Helen’s sake—” Jack began, but Uncle Peabody +interrupted.</p> + +<p>“For Helen’s sake you will hasten the arrival of your +chauffeur, if such a thing be possible.”</p> + +<p class="r3">The following day was an eventful one. First of all, +as if in response to Uncle Peabody’s exhortation, the +chauffeur appeared. Mr. Cartwright departed for the +city soon after breakfast, to be gone all day, and by +the time the heat of the afternoon had subsided De +Peyster drove up in state to enforce the promise Inez +had given him the afternoon before. After watching +them drive away, Helen slipped her hand through her +husband’s arm and gently drew him with her into the +garden. They walked in silence, Helen’s head resting +against his shoulder, until they reached her favorite +vantage-spot, when she paused and looked smilingly into +his face.</p> + +<p>“Jack dear,” she said, quietly, “do you realize that +this is almost the first time we have really been by ourselves +since we took that walk to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>?”</p> + +<p>“But at least you have had an opportunity to show +your villa to your friends!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t joke, Jack—I am not in the mood for it this +afternoon. I don’t know why, but I have been feeling +very serious these last few days. Tell me, dear—are you +perfectly happy?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked surprised. “Why, yes—perfectly +happy. What a curious notion!”</p> + +<p>“I know it is, but humor me just this once. Are +you as fond of me now as you were that day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>?”</p> + +<p>“You silly child!” Jack drew her to him and kissed +her. “Whatever has possessed you to-day?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know, but you see I measure everything by +that day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>. I believe it was the happiest day +I ever spent. Since then, somehow, I have felt that we +were not so near together. Of course, you have been +away a good deal at the library and looking up things +with Inez, which was just what I wanted you to do; +and then we have had a good many here to entertain, +which was also what I wanted; but I can’t help feeling +that you have not found here at home just what you +should have found to make you perfectly happy. Tell +me, dear, have I been to blame?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong paused as if weighing something heavily +in his mind. “Perhaps I have no right to go on with +this work,” he remarked, at length, “but the only way +to stop it would be to leave Florence.”</p> + +<p>“You know I don’t mean that, Jack.”</p> + +<p>“I know you don’t. I am speaking simply for myself.”</p> + +<p>He was again silent, and Helen hesitated to break in +upon his reverie. He seemed for the moment to be far +away from her, and she felt an intangible barrier between +them.</p> + +<p>“I could not make any one understand.” Armstrong +was speaking more to himself than to her. “Ever since +I left Florence years ago I have felt something pulling +me back, and ever since I have been here I have been +under influences which I can explain no more than I can +resist. It must be this, if anything, that you feel.”</p> + +<p>“I think I understand,” Helen hastened to reassure +him. “Sometimes when I have been playing something +on the piano I have the strangest sensation come over +me. I seem to lose my own individuality and to be +merged into another’s. I feel impelled to play on, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +an unspeakable dread comes over me lest some one should +try to stop me. Is it not something like that which you +feel?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Armstrong, “only a thousand times +stronger than any one could put in words.”</p> + +<p>“I know exactly what you mean—and there is nothing +for which you need blame yourself. You warned +me before we left Boston that you had left here a second +personality. I know that you confidently expected your +own enthusiasm to excite my interest when once in the +atmosphere. I wish that it had, dear, but I fear I am +hopelessly modern.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked at his wife intently, yet he gave +no evidence that he had heard her words.</p> + +<p>“I have started on a great task at the library, Helen. +The spirit of work is on me, and I feel that I have a +chance to prove myself one of that glorious company. +I may find myself unequal to the opportunity, but if we +stay here in Florence I cannot keep away from it. If +my absence from you makes you unhappy I must separate +myself from these associations.”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed,” cried Helen. “I would not have you +stop your work for worlds. Even though I am unable +to appreciate it, you know how interested I am in anything +which adds to your happiness—and I am so proud +of you, dear! That was one reason why I was glad that +Inez could spend a little time with us. She, at least, can +help you.”</p> + +<p>“She can indeed,” replied Armstrong, frankly, “and +she has already. I have never seen a girl with such +natural intellectual gifts. Her arguments are so logical, +her reasoning so clear, that I find even her disagreements +most entertaining. What a pity she is not a man!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I knew you would like her,” answered Helen. +“Sometimes I think you ought to have married a girl +like her instead of me, but”—Helen looked at him +smilingly and drew closer to him—“but I am awfully +glad that you didn’t, Jack!”</p> + +<p>“What nonsense, Helen!” cried Armstrong, coming to +himself and drawing her to him. “Who is fishing now? +I would ask no better chum than your charming, brown-eyed +friend, but I am quite content that I possess as +wife this sweet girl here in my arms who is trying to +find a cloud in this cloudless sky.”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, Jack.” Helen straightened up reproachfully. +“But I like to hear you say these things—just +as you did that day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>! And even if I should +find a cloud it would be sure to have a silver lining, +wouldn’t it, dear?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong smiled. “Yes, sweetheart, and, as Uncle +Peabody says, ‘all you would have to do would be to +turn it around lining side out.’”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>VII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Inez Thayer found herself overwhelmed by a varied +mingling of conflicting emotions as she settled +herself in the victoria, and listened without remark to +the enthusiastic and joyous monologue to which her companion +gave free rein. She felt herself absolutely helpless, +borne along resistlessly like a rudderless ship by a +force which she could neither control nor fully comprehend. +She still longed for a valid excuse to leave Florence, +yet in her heart she questioned whether she would +now be strong enough to embrace the opportunity even +if it came. She had dreaded the certain appearance of +De Peyster, yet she had been eager to enter into the +inevitable final discussion so that the episode might be +closed forever. She said to herself that she hated Armstrong +for the mastery which he unconsciously possessed +over her, yet every thought of him thrilled her with a +delight which nothing in her life had before given her. +The color came to her cheeks even now, and De Peyster, +watching her intently, thought it was in response to his +own remark and felt encouraged.</p> + +<p>The drive took them, as a matter of course, to the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cascine</span>, where fashionable Florence parades up and +down the delightful avenues formed by the pines and +the ilexes. On this particular afternoon the heat encouraged +them to take refuge on the shadier side toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +the mountains, reserving the drive along the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span> until +the brilliant coloring of the setting sun should show +them both <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Bellosguardo</span> and the city itself in their fullest +glory. De Peyster was intoxicated by the enjoyment +of his environment, and seemed quite content to accept +his companion’s passive submission to his mood. At +length his exuberance of spirits became mildly contagious, +and Inez threw off her apprehensions and forgot +the dangers and perplexities which she felt surrounded +her.</p> + +<p>But her feeling of security was short-lived. De Peyster +no sooner became conscious of her change of manner +than he seized it as a long-awaited opportunity. Beginning +where he had left off at the last attack, he rehearsed +the history of his affection from the day he had +first met her until the present moment. For the first time +Inez experienced a sympathy toward him rather than a +sorrow for herself. He was, even with his limitations, so +deadly in earnest, his devotion was so unquestionable, his +very persistency was so unlike his other characteristics, +seeming a part of a stronger personality, that it forced +her admiration. And yet how far below the standard +she had set!</p> + +<p>“You have not believed me, Ferdinand, when I have +told you over and over again that what you ask is absolutely +impossible.” Inez spoke kindly but very firmly. +“I truly wish it might be otherwise, but it is +kinder that I make you understand it now instead of +having this unhappiness for us both continue indefinitely. +I know you mean every word, but I say to you now +finally and irrevocably—it can never be.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster looked into her face searchingly. “You +never said it like that before, Inez.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, I have—not once, but many times, and in almost +the same words.”</p> + +<p>“But it is not the words that count, Inez. I don’t +care how many times you say it in the way you always +have said it before. I expected to hear it again. But +this tone, Inez, this manner is quite different; and for +the first time I have a feeling that perhaps you do mean +it after all.”</p> + +<p>“I do mean it, and I have meant it every time I have +said it.”</p> + +<p>Inez was relentless, but she felt that this was the one +time when matters could be finally settled, and the carriage +had already begun the climb to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>.</p> + +<p>De Peyster still gazed at her with uncertainty. Then +a sudden light came to him and showed in his face, +mingling with the evident pain which the thought +brought him.</p> + +<p>“I have it,” he said, bending toward her to watch her +expression more intently; “I have it. You are in love +with some one else!”</p> + +<p>Inez felt her face burn with the suddenness of the +accusation. She hesitated, and in that moment’s hesitation +De Peyster had his answer. Still he was not satisfied. +He must hear the words spoken.</p> + +<p>“You told me last time that there was no one else,” +he said, reproachfully, “and I know you spoke the +truth. Now there must be some one, and if there is I +am entitled to know it. So long as my love for you +cannot harm you, no power on earth can take it away +from me; but if there is another who has a better right +than I, that is a different matter. Tell me, Inez—I insist—do +you love some one else?”</p> + +<p>There was no retreat. Any denial of words would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +useless, and it was the only way to end things after all. +She lifted her eyes to his and spoke calmly, though the +color had fled from her cheeks and her face was deathly +pale. “Yes, Ferdinand, you are entitled to know it. I do +love some one else, and I love him better than my life!”</p> + +<p>“I knew it!” De Peyster exclaimed, dejectedly.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, during which he struggled +bravely with himself.</p> + +<p>“Tell me who it is,” he said, at length. “Of course, +this makes it different.”</p> + +<p>Inez could not help admiring the unexpected strength.</p> + +<p>“No, Ferdinand, I cannot. This is my secret, and +you must not question further.”</p> + +<p>“But it must be some one here, for you told me just +before you sailed that there was no one.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps here—perhaps elsewhere. You must leave +it there, Ferdinand. If you care for me, as you say you +do, I ask you to leave it there.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster bowed submissively and shared her evident +desire for silence during the few moments which remained +of their drive.</p> + +<p>Helen and Jack met them at the villa, and were greatly +disappointed that Ferdinand declined their pressing +invitation to stay for supper in the garden. A promise +that he would take tea with them on the following afternoon +was all they could secure from him, and when +Inez rushed up-stairs promptly upon his departure Jack +looked at Helen meaningly.</p> + +<p>“She must have turned him down good and hard this +time, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Poor Ferdy!” Helen replied, sympathetically. “I +had no idea he could get so cut up over anything.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p class="r3">The automobile, even in the two days it had been a +member of the Armstrong family, completely demoralized +the entire establishment. Jack was beside himself with +excitement and joy, his early experiments both with +chauffeur and car being eminently satisfactory. He contented +himself with short runs down to the city and +back the first day after his man had succeeded in putting +the car into its normal condition, but his impatience +to start out again immediately after each return, even +though luncheon was most unceremoniously shortened, +produced almost as much dismay in the household as his +bad temper while trying to reconstruct the machine.</p> + +<p>“I want you all to have a ride in it at the earliest +possible moment,” he explained; “but before I risk +any one’s neck but my own I must satisfy myself that +the car is all right and that the chauffeur knows his +business.”</p> + +<p>The only event which diverted Armstrong was the return +to the villa of Inez and De Peyster, for their evident +discomforture caused him real concern. On general +principles he was interested in the outcome of the +obvious errand which had brought De Peyster to Florence, +and beyond this he had already come to look upon +Miss Thayer as a most agreeable companion and assistant +whose happiness and equilibrium he regretted to +see disturbed.</p> + +<p>After De Peyster’s unceremonious departure and +Inez’ abrupt disappearance, he and Helen strolled out +into the garden, where the table was already laid for +supper.</p> + +<p>“There is no use waiting for Inez,” said Helen. +“Poor child! It is a shame to have her unhappy when +we are so contented. But where is Uncle Peabody?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I met him on the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lung’ Arno</span> and offered to take +him home, but he said he was bound for Olschki’s. Trying +to find out if <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Luigi Cornaro</span> wrote anything he had +not discovered, he said.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he will come before we have finished. You +sit there, Jack, where you can watch the sunset behind +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Miniato</span>, and I will sit next to you so that I can +watch it, too.”</p> + +<p>Helen drew the light chair nearer, and smilingly looked +up at him. “There,” she said. “Is this not cozy—just +you and I?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong smiled back into her radiant eyes with +equal contentment. “This is absolute perfection, but +you don’t imagine we can eat like this, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel a bit hungry,” she replied, cheerfully, +making no attempt to move. “Uncle Peabody says we +ought not to eat when we don’t feel like it, and I don’t +feel like it now.”</p> + +<p>“But what does Uncle Peabody say about not eating +when you have been knocking about in an automobile all +day and have the appetite of a horse?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you men!” cried Helen, straightening up with +a pout. “I don’t believe there is a bit of sentiment in +a man’s make-up, anyhow. Eat—eat—eat—” and she +piled his plate high with generous portions from every +dish within reach.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody’s step upon the path gave warning of +his approach.</p> + +<p>“So I am in time after all,” he said. “I was afraid +I should be obliged to eat my evening repast in solitary +loneliness. But is this the way you follow my precepts?” +he continued, as his eye fell upon Armstrong’s plate. +“Can’t you take it on the instalment plan—or are you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +anticipating forming a partnership with a stomach-pump?”</p> + +<p>“It is my fault, uncle,” replied Helen, contritely. +“I can’t make Jack romantic, so I tried to stuff him to +keep him good-natured. That is always the next best +thing with a man.”</p> + +<p>“Oh ho!” Uncle Peabody looked shocked as he drew +a chair up to the little table. “So I have come right +into a family quarrel, have I? Naughty, naughty, both +of you!”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could quarrel with him,” said Helen, “but +he is too agreeable, even in his aggravating moods.”</p> + +<p>“What have you to say to that pretty speech, John +Armstrong?” asked Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“What can I say?” answered Jack, between mouth-fuls, +“except that, speaking for myself, I am always +much more romantic when I am not hungry. If Herself +will indulge me for five minutes longer I will promise +to be as sentimental as the most fastidious could desire.”</p> + +<p>“I do not care for manufactured sentiment,” replied +Helen; “and it is too late now anyway, for my own +appetite has returned and my anger is appeased.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Thayer evidently has not returned yet?” ventured +Uncle Peabody, interrogatively, as the supper progressed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is up-stairs in tears, and Ferdy has gone +away to throw himself into the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span>,” Helen replied.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, dear me!” murmured Uncle Peabody. +“What a pity! I am not sure that I would have returned +had I known that I should find so much trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Now that you have had this much, I think I will +let you in for the rest,” suggested Armstrong. “I will +take you out to the garage after you have finished.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>“More trouble there?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—punctured a tire on the way up the hill.”</p> + +<p>“And you never said a word about it!” cried Helen. +“No wonder you did not feel romantic!”</p> + +<p>“Good! Peace is once more established, which is +worth more than a new tire. Come, my appetite is satisfied—suppose +we all go out to the garage.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> interrupted their progress at the door.</p> + +<p>“A gentleman to see the signora,” she announced—“the +same gentleman who took the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Signorina</span> Thayer to +ride this afternoon—and would the signora see him +alone?”</p> + +<p>“Poor Ferdy,” Helen sighed, aloud. “He wants me +to intercede for him. You go on, Jack, and perhaps I +may join you later. Show Mr. De Peyster out here, +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>.”</p> + +<p>Ferdinand hardly waited to be ushered through the +hallway. He was visibly suffering as he approached +Helen with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>“I am so sorry, Ferdy,” was all she could say before +he interrupted her.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Helen, for coming to you before I have +regained control of myself; but I have made a sudden +decision, and unless I carry it out at once I won’t be able +to do it.”</p> + +<p>“A sudden decision, Ferdy?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am leaving Florence on the night train for +Paris; but I could not go without seeing you again and +leaving with you a message for—Inez.”</p> + +<p>“The night train to-night? Surely you are not going +away without seeing Inez again?”</p> + +<p>Helen’s sympathy was strong in the face of his almost +uncontrollable emotion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, to-night, Helen; and I shall never see her again +unless she sends for me.”</p> + +<p>“But what has happened to make things so hopeless +now? She has refused you before, Ferdy, and I have +always admired your pluck that you refused to give her +up.”</p> + +<p>“But it is different now—there is a reason why I must +give her up. There was none before, except that she +did not think she cared for me. I was certain I could +make her do that—in time. But now—”</p> + +<p>“What is it now?” Her interest was sincere.</p> + +<p>“You must know, Helen. Why do you pretend that +you don’t?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what do you mean? I am not pretending. I +know of nothing.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster was incredulous. “It’s all right, Helen. +We men would do the same thing, I suppose, to protect +another chap’s secret; but it is pretty rough on me, +just the same.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s mystification was complete. “Look here, +Ferdy,” she said; “this has gone too far. Inez has +evidently confided to you something which she has never +told me. I have not had a word with her since she returned, +and I know nothing of what has happened except +what I have surmised.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me that Inez has been here all +this time as your guest without your knowing that she +has fallen in love with some one over here?”</p> + +<p>“Inez in love! Ferdy, you are crazy! Who is it, +and where did she meet him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—she would not tell me, but it is some +one she has met over here.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe a word of it. She must have said it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +to make you understand that she could not marry +you.”</p> + +<p>Ferdinand shook his head. “No. A girl could fool +me on some things, I suppose; but when she speaks as +Inez spoke she means every word she says. ‘I do love +some one else,’ she said, ‘and I love him better than my +life.’ Do you think Inez would say that if she did not +mean it, Helen?”</p> + +<p>Helen leaned against the arm of the settle. “I don’t +understand it, Ferdy—I don’t understand it.”</p> + +<p>“But I do, and I am not strong enough to see her +again or to stay here in Florence. I will not trouble her +again unless she sends for me—anything sent in care +of Coutts will always reach me. Or after she is married, +and I am myself again, I would like to see her and congratulate—him. +Forgive me, Helen, I am all unstrung +to-night. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>De Peyster was gone before Helen realized it. She +sank upon the settle and rested her face on her hand. +Inez in love, and with some one she had met in +Italy! Who was it—when was it? She had come directly +to the villa upon her arrival. She had said +that she had met no one who interested her on the +steamer. In Florence she had met no one otherwise than +casually. All her time had been spent either with her +or with Jack. Helen lifted her head suddenly. “With +Jack,” she repeated to herself. She rose quickly and +looked off into the distance. The last bright rays were +disappearing behind <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Miniato</span>. “I love him better +than my life,” Inez had said to Ferdinand. Helen +grasped the railing of the balustrade for support. +“With Jack!” she repeated again. “Oh no, no, no—not +that!” she cried aloud—“not that!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>VIII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>“How is the work at the library progressing?”</p> + +<p>Helen asked her husband at breakfast a few +mornings later.</p> + +<p>“Famously,” Armstrong replied, pleased that she had +referred to the subject.</p> + +<p>“Is it nearly finished?”</p> + +<p>“Finished?” Jack laughed indulgently. “You evidently +don’t realize what a big thing I have undertaken. +I find myself appalled by its possibilities.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed.” Uncle Peabody looked up surprised. +“Does this mean that you are likely to lengthen your +stay in Florence beyond your original plans?”</p> + +<p>“No, I think not,” Armstrong replied. “We have +been here less than a month now, and I ought to be able +to put my material into shape during the two months +which remain—especially with the splendid assistance +Miss Thayer is giving me. I can add the finishing +touches after we return home, if necessary.”</p> + +<p>“Will it take as long as that?” asked Helen, her color +mounting.</p> + +<p>“Surely you are not counting upon me for any such +length of time!” exclaimed Inez, almost in the same +breath. “My cousins are expecting me to join them in +Berlin any day now.”</p> + +<p>“You would not desert your post of duty?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I must follow the direction toward which it points.”</p> + +<p>“Just what is this ‘big thing’ you have undertaken?” +interrupted Uncle Peabody. “You forget that I have +not yet been taken into your confidence.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong turned to his questioner seriously. “I +have really stumbled upon something which has not been +done before and which ought to have been undertaken +long ago. You see, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> has there at the library hundreds +of letters which belong to the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Buonarroti</span> archives. +Many of them were written by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>, and many +more were written to him. The correspondence is between +him and men in all walks of life—popes, kings, +princes, tradesmen, and even some from the workmen in +the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Carrara</span> quarries.”</p> + +<p>“And you and Miss Thayer are translating these letters?” +Uncle Peabody anticipated.</p> + +<p>“Yes; but that is not the work which most interests +me, except indirectly. Any number of volumes have +been published upon the life and manners and customs +of every age before and since that in which <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> +lived, yet practically nothing concerning this particular +period. The artistic importance of the epoch has been +written up with minute detail, but the intimate life of +the people and its significance seems to have been +wholly overlooked—probably because it was overshadowed. +Very few of these letters have ever been printed, +and they ought to form the basis of a great work upon +this subject. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> has turned them over to me to see +what I can do with them. At first I started with the +idea of going through everything myself, but that would +be a hopeless task unless we plan to live in Florence indefinitely. +Now, Miss Thayer reads over the letters and +takes out the important data, leaving me free to work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +on the book itself. We are really making splendid +progress, and I shall be bitterly disappointed if Miss +Thayer has to go away and leave me to finish it alone.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure Inez will stay as long as she can, Jack,” +Helen said, quietly. “She knows how welcome she has +been, but we must not urge her beyond what she thinks +is best.”</p> + +<p>She broke off suddenly; then, with an assumed nonchalance, +said: “I wonder if I could not help in some +way and thus get the work completed just that much +sooner. Of course, I don’t understand Italian, but perhaps +I could do some copying or something. Don’t you +think three would accomplish more than two, Jack, even +if one of them was a weak sister?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked over to her husband with obvious expectancy, +but she could not fail to notice the momentary +hush.</p> + +<p>“I know how ridiculous my proposition sounds,” she +continued, bravely, “but I would really like to try.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course,” Armstrong replied, hastily. +“Miss Thayer’s suggestion to leave and your willingness +at last to come to my rescue have combined to give me +two unexpected shocks—one unpleasant, the other delightful. +Let me see. Miss Thayer and I have been +developing a kind of team work, so this means a little readjustment.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, if it is not perfectly convenient.” +Helen made an effort to appear indifferent.</p> + +<p>“Of course it is convenient,” Jack hastened to add, +ashamed of his hesitation. “You know how much I have +wanted you to do this, and I am perfectly delighted. I +am sure it can be arranged and that you can help us a +great deal.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I wish you knew Italian, Helen, so that you could +take my place,” added Inez. “Then Mr. Armstrong +would not accuse me of deserting my post of duty.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” protested Armstrong, impulsively. +“Even then I could not get along without your assistance. +We can easily find something for Helen to do +which will help the work along and encourage her in +her budding enthusiasm. This is splendid! Helen interested +at last in my dusty old divinities! Perhaps we +can even infect Uncle Peabody.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” assented Uncle Peabody; “but for the +present I shall devote myself to my own researches—even +though your masterpiece is forced to suffer thereby. +But I will ride down with you as far as the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Duomo</span>.”</p> + +<p>No one in the automobile, unless it was the chauffeur, +could help feeling a certain tenseness in the situation as +the car conveyed the party to its destination. Helen’s +action was the result of a sudden decision, quite at variance +with all the conclusions at which she had arrived +during the wakeful hours of the preceding nights. Armstrong +had so long since given up all thought of having +his wife co-operate with him in this particular expression +of himself, and the work upon which he and Miss Thayer +were engaged had settled down into so regular a routine, +that he was really disturbed by Helen’s change of base, +although he had been entirely unwilling to admit it. +Inez inwardly resented the intrusion, at the same time +blaming herself severely for her attitude; and Uncle +Peabody, who saw in the whole affair only a clever ruse +on Helen’s part instigated by a tardily aroused jealousy, +was in danger, for the first time, of not knowing just +what to do.</p> + +<p>As a result of all these conflicting emotions, the efforts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +at conversation during the ride would have seemed ludicrous +had the situation been less serious. Armstrong +kept up a continuous and irrelevant conversation into +which each of the others joined weakly with equal irrelevance. +Each was trying to talk and think at the +same time. The car reached the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza del Duomo</span> almost +abruptly, as it seemed, and Uncle Peabody alighted with +considerable alacrity, waving a good-bye which was mechanically +acknowledged as the machine slowly moved +into the narrow <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Borgo San Lorenzo</span>. At the library, +Armstrong led the way through the cloister and up the +stone stairs to the little door where <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Maritelli</span> was this +time waiting to give them entrance.</p> + +<p>“I will take you to meet <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>,” said Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“While I,” interrupted Inez, “will seek out our table +and get all in readiness for our triple labors.”</p> + +<p>A gentle voice called “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Avanti</span>,” in answer to Jack’s +tap upon the door of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s study, and the old man +rose hastily as he saw a new figure by Armstrong’s +side.</p> + +<p>“My wife, padre.” Jack smiled at the admiration in +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s face as he took Helen’s hand and raised it to +his lips. “She could not longer resist the magnet which +draws us to you and to your treasures.”</p> + +<p>“Your wife,” repeated the old man, looking from +Helen to Armstrong. “I have looked forward to this +day when I might meet her here. But where is your +sister-worker? Surely she has not given up the splendid +task which she has so well begun?”</p> + +<p>Helen flushed consciously at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s praise of Inez. +“No, father; Miss Thayer is already at her work, and +Mr. Armstrong is equally eager to return to it. May +I not stay a little while with you?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Have you time to show her some of the things here +which we know and love so well?” asked Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“Most certainly.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Helen. “If you will accept my guidance +we can let these humanists resume their labors +while we enjoy the accomplishments of those who have +gone before.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong left them, and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> conducted Helen +through the library, explaining to her the various objects +of interest. It was quite apparent to Helen that the +old man was studying her minutely, and she felt ill at +ease in spite of his unfailing courtesy.</p> + +<p>“You have known my husband for a long while, have +you not?” Helen asked as they passed from one case to +another.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed—even before he came to know himself.”</p> + +<p>“Then you must know him very well.”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled, but the old man was serious.</p> + +<p>“Better than you know him, even though you are +his wife. But see this choir-book. It was illuminated +by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo Monaco</span>, teacher of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fra Angelico</span>. Can anything +be more wonderful than these miniatures, in the +beauty of their line and color?”</p> + +<p>Helen assented with a show of interest, but she was +not thinking of the blazoned page before her. The old +man’s words were burning in her heart. Passing through +a smaller room to reach <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s study, they came suddenly +to a corner lighted only by a small window where +Armstrong and Inez were at work. So intent were they +that the approach of Helen and the librarian had not +been noticed. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> held up his hand warningly.</p> + +<p>“Quiet!” he commanded, softly. “Let us not disturb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +them. I have never seen two individualities cast in +so identical a mould. One sometimes sees it in two men, +but rarely in a man and a woman.”</p> + +<p>Helen felt her breath come faster as she watched them +for a moment longer. Inez was pointing out something +in the text of the original letter which lay before them. +Armstrong’s head was bent, studying it intently. Then +Inez spoke, and her companion answered loud enough +for Helen to hear.</p> + +<p>“Splendid! And to think that we are the first ones +to put these facts together!”</p> + +<p>The expression of sheer joy upon her husband’s face +held Helen spellbound, and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was obliged to repeat +his suggestion that they return to his study by another +route.</p> + +<p>“It is just as you have seen it, day after day,” said +the librarian as he closed the door quietly, and Helen +seated herself in the Savonarola chair beside his desk. +“When I heard from him that he was to be married I +hoped that his wife might be able to enter into this joy +of his life; but, since that could not be, it is well that +he has found a friend so sympathetic.”</p> + +<p>Helen told herself that the old man could not intend +deliberately to wound her as he was doing.</p> + +<p>“Why are you so sure that his wife cannot enter into +it also?” she asked, quietly.</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> looked at her in evident surprise. “Because +what I have seen during these weeks, and what you have +seen to-day, can happen but once in a lifetime. You +are more beautiful than his companion, but you are not +so intellectual.”</p> + +<p>It was impossible to take offence at the old man’s +frankness because of his absolute sincerity. He spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +of her beauty exactly as he spoke of one of the magnificent +bindings he had just shown her, and of Inez’ +intellectuality as if it were the content of one of his +priceless tomes.</p> + +<p>“I came to the library to-day for the definite purpose +of joining in their work—” Helen began, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>“Surely not!” replied <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, emphatically. “You +would not disturb these labors which mean so much in +the development of them both? It would mean stopping +them where they are.”</p> + +<p>“Could I not assist them at some point, even to a +slight extent, and participate in this development myself?”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was mildly indulgent at her lack of understanding. +“My daughter,” he said, kindly, “some one +has written that it is no kindness to a spider, no matter +how gentle the touch, to aid it in the spinning of its +web. Any one can work at translating, truly—almost +any one can write a book—but few can accomplish what +your husband and Miss Thayer are doing now. The +book they are engaged upon in itself is the least of +value. They do not themselves realize, as I do, that +it is the influence of this work upon their own characters +which is making it a success. They were humanists +before they knew the meaning of the word. They come +into the highest expression of themselves here in this +atmosphere. You were born for other things, my daughter—perhaps +far more important things—but not for +this.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot understand, father,” Helen replied, +desperately. “I am his wife, and it is my place, rather +than that of any other woman, to share with him any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +development which affects his life as deeply as you say +this does. It must be so.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me if I offend you, but this is not a matter +which you or I can settle. It is perhaps natural that +I cannot understand your viewpoint. The nature of +my life and work gives me little knowledge of women; +but this is not a question of sex—it is the kinship of intellects. +You are his wife, and, as you say, it is your +privilege to share with your husband any development, +but it must be along a path which you are able to tread. +I mean this in no unkind way, my daughter. I doubt +not that you, perhaps, in all other ways, are quite capable +of doing so, but this one single portion of his life +it is quite impossible that you should share.”</p> + +<p>Helen had no response. Her heart told her that all +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> said was literally true. She felt herself to be absolutely +unfitted to understand or to supplement that +particular expression of her husband’s character. But +the matter-of-fact suggestion of the librarian that Inez +should fulfil to him that which she, his wife, lacked, almost +paralyzed her power to think or speak. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> seemed instinctively +to read what was passing through her mind.</p> + +<p>“You think me unreal, my daughter—you think me +impractical. I may be both. Here, within these old +walls, I am not limited by the world’s conventions, so +perhaps I disregard them more than is right. Those +whom I love signify nothing to me as to their personal +appearance or their families or their personalities except +in so far as these attributes may be expressions of +themselves. Life to me would not be worth the living +if in debating whether or not I ought to do a certain +thing I was obliged to consider also what the world +would think or what some other person might think.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +Let me ask you a question: Was your motive in coming +here this morning the result of a desire to put yourself +in touch with the spirit of your husband’s work, or was +it to separate these two persons in the labor they have +undertaken?”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s question brought Helen to herself.</p> + +<p>“If you are really free from the world’s conventions,” +she responded, quickly, “you will understand my answer. +My husband is everything to me that a wife could ask, +and his happiness is the highest object my life contains. +Miss Thayer is the dearest friend I have, and my affection +for her is second only to the love I bear my husband. +While this side of his nature was not unknown +to me, until we came to Florence—even until to-day—I +have never fully appreciated its intensity. Yet when I +feel that to a certain extent, at least, his welfare depends +upon a gratification of this expression, is it unnatural +that I, his wife, should wish to be the one person to experience +that development with him?”</p> + +<p>“You did not feel this strong desire when you first +came to Florence?”</p> + +<p>“I did not understand it.”</p> + +<p>“Would your present comprehension have come at all +if his companion had been a man rather than a woman?”</p> + +<p>Helen flushed. “You are not so free from the world’s +conventions as you think.”</p> + +<p>“But you do not answer the question,” the old man +pursued, relentlessly.</p> + +<p>“You think, then, that my desire is prompted by +jealousy? Let us speak frankly,” continued Helen as +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> held up his hand deprecatingly. “The distinction +in my own mind may be a fine one and difficult for another +to comprehend, but I can say truly that no jealous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +thought has entered into any of my considerations. I +could not love my husband and be jealous of him at the +same time. On the other hand, it is probably quite true +that were his companion a man I should not have recognized +so strongly the importance of joining him in this +particular work.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> rose quietly, and took from the bookcase near +his desk a copy of a modern classic.</p> + +<p>“The author has expressed an idea here which I think +explains your position exactly.” He turned the pages +quickly. “See here,” he said, drawing closer to Helen +and pointing to a paragraph marked with a double score +in the margin. “‘No man objects to the admiration his +wife receives from his friends; it is the woman herself +who makes the trouble.’ Now I suppose the reverse of +that proposition is equally true.”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled. “You mean that the reason I am not +jealous of my husband in this instance is because he has +given me no occasion?”</p> + +<p>“Exactly.”</p> + +<p>“That is perfectly true.”</p> + +<p>“But you fear that it may not always be true?”</p> + +<p>Helen was no match for the old man in argument, +yet she struggled to meet him.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” she said; “there is always that danger. +Why not avoid it by making this other companionship +unnecessary?”</p> + +<p>“But suppose you yourself are not temperamentally +fitted to gratify this particular craving in your husband’s +life?” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> watched the effect of his words +upon his companion. She was silent for several moments +before she raised her eyes to his.</p> + +<p>“I know that you are right,” she answered, simply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +“I have felt it always, but my husband has insisted that +in my case it was lack of application rather than of +temperament. I came here to-day to try the experiment, +and you have shown me that my own judgment +is correct.”</p> + +<p>“It is correct,” agreed <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, delighted by Helen’s +unexpected acquiescence. “It was your husband’s heart +rather than his head which led him astray in his advice. +You have just shown me your intelligence by coming +so promptly to this conclusion; now you are going +to manifest your devotion to him by leaving him undisturbed +in this work which he has undertaken. It can +only last during a limited period at best. It is the expression +of but one side of his nature. Before many +weeks have passed you and he will be returning to your +great country into a complexity of conditions where this +experience will become only a memory. These conditions +will call to the surface the expression of his other characteristics +into which you can fully enter. By not interfering +with this character-building now going on, +you, his wife, will later reap rich returns.”</p> + +<p>A tap sounded on the door of the study.</p> + +<p>“There is your husband now,” said <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, taking +Helen’s hand. “Tell me that you forgive me for my +frankness.”</p> + +<p>Helen pressed his hand silently as he turned from her +to admit Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“Here you are!” cried Jack, as he entered with Inez. +“We became so engrossed that I am ashamed to say I +completely forgot our new convert.”</p> + +<p>“Your forgetfulness has given me the opportunity to +become well acquainted with your charming wife,” replied +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>. “Is your work completed for the day?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, but we shall be at it again to-morrow. You will +come with us of course?” he asked, turning to his wife.</p> + +<p>“I am not quite sure, Jack,” Helen replied. “Monsignor +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> has suggested to me another way in which +I can help you, which may prove to be equally important.”</p> + +<p>She turned to Inez with an unflinching smile. “Our +friend has been explaining to me the nature of what you +and Jack are doing together. You must certainly plan +to stay on for a while longer. I am sure Jack could +never finish it without you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>IX</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The human heart can play no more difficult rôle +than to keep on with its every-day monotonous +pulsations, so far as the world sees, when in reality +every throb is a measured duration of infinite pain. Ten +days had passed since De Peyster had so unconsciously +been the cause of completely changing the even tenor of +Helen’s existence, and during this time she had drifted +helplessly in the deep waters of uncertainty. What was +the wise thing to do? Helen knew Inez too well to deceive +herself into thinking that what was said to Ferdinand +had been simply an expedient to accomplish his +dismissal, and her observations since then had confirmed +her early convictions. Inez was in love with Jack. Jack +was obviously fond of her companionship. Their work +in the library had brought them constantly together, +and at home an increasing proportion of the time had +been devoted to a consideration and discussion of the +various topics which had developed and into which Helen +did not enter. Yet there was nothing in all this which +was not perfectly natural; in fact, it was, as Helen said +to herself, wholly the outcome of what she had originally +suggested.</p> + +<p>Helen’s convictions regarding Inez were confirmed, not +by what her friend did, but rather by the efforts she +made to avoid doing certain things. Never for an instant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +did Helen question Inez’ loyalty to her, and she +could scarcely refrain from entering into the tremendous +struggle in which she saw her engaged. Each woman’s +heart was passing through fire, and Helen felt a new and +strange bond of sympathy between her friend and herself +because of their mutual suffering. But the struggle +must continue. Helen must come to some decision wiser +than any which had yet suggested itself to her before +disclosing to any one, and to Inez least of all, that she +possessed any knowledge of the situation.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, at this crisis, the automobile became the +controlling excitement. During the intervening days +Jack had resisted the temptation, devoting himself assiduously +to his self-appointed task, and satisfying himself +with short excursions after his labors at the library +were over. Now he could resist no longer. The book +was assuming definite proportions, and, as he explained +to himself and the others, the work would be all the better +for a little holiday. So it was that the Armstrongs, +with Miss Thayer and Uncle Peabody, made runs to +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Siena</span>, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Padua</span>, and to all the smaller towns less frequented +by visitors and consequently of greater interest. Miss +Thayer forgot in the excitement the experience she was +passing through; Uncle Peabody forgot <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Luigi Cornaro</span> +and the Japanese; Armstrong, for the time being, appeared +indifferent to the hitherto compelling interests at +the library; and Helen, at intervals, forgot her suffering +and the heavy burden which lay upon her heart in her +feeling of helplessness. New sensations, in this twentieth +century, are rare, and the automobile is to be credited +with supplying many. The exhilaration, the abandon, +which comes with the utter annihilation of time and +space, forces even those affairs of life which previously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +had been thought important to become miserably commonplace. +The danger itself is not the least of the fascination.</p> + +<p>“I would rather be killed once a week in an automobile,” +asserted Uncle Peabody while the fever was on +him, “than die the one ordinary death allotted to man.”</p> + +<p>With the temporary cessation of the library work, +there had been no occasion for separate interests. This, +Helen felt, was most fortunate, as it gave her ample +opportunity to arrive at her conclusions. It was all her +own fault, she repeated to herself over and over again. +Had she made an earlier effort to enter into Jack’s interests, +even though it had proved her inability, matters +need never have arrived at so serious a pass. Now +she was convinced that it was too late to become a part +of them; she had done an irreparable injury to Inez, +whom she loved as a sister, and had taken chances on +disrupting her own and her husband’s domestic happiness.</p> + +<p>“As Jack said, I have found a cloud in the cloudless +sky,” she thought.—“And poor Inez!”</p> + +<p>Thus the burden resolved itself into two parts—solicitude +for Inez and how best to undo the harm Helen +felt she had wrought. Her first attempt had proved a +failure, and she could not see the next step. While the +motoring fever lasted there was nothing to do but to +plan; for the excitement was infectious, and one trip +followed another in rapid succession. Household regularity +became conspicuous by its absence. Meals were +served at all hours and were rushed through with reckless +haste, entirely upsetting Uncle Peabody’s theories.</p> + +<p>“You treat your stomach like a trunk,” he protested +to Armstrong one morning, “and you throw the food<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +into it just about the way an average man does his packing.”</p> + +<p>“But you finish your breakfast just as soon as any +of us,” was the retort.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but if you observe carefully you will note that +I actually eat about one-quarter as much as you do in +the same given time. And what I have eaten will satisfy +me about four times as long, because I have thoroughly +masticated it and assimilated all the nourishing portions +of the food. When I think of the gymnastic performances +your poor stomach must go through in order to +tear into shreds the chunks of food you have bolted down +I admit my sympathy is fully aroused.”</p> + +<p>“Sympathy is always grateful,” Armstrong replied, +unconvinced, “but every moment we lose discussing nutrition +is a moment taken off the finest trip we have tried +yet. The car is in splendid condition, the weather is +ideal, and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pisa</span> awaits us at the other end of our excursion.”</p> + +<p>“So it is to be <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pisa</span>, is it?” Uncle Peabody arose. +“Do you know, Jack, I like you for the way you plan +these charming rides, and that almost makes up for your +lack of judgment in some other directions. An ordinary +man would spend at least the day before in studying +maps, asking advice, and in making plans generally. +You, on the contrary, wait until breakfast is over, throw +down your napkin, and then with a proper show of impatience +say, ‘Why do you keep me waiting? The car +is ready to take us to the moon.’ All this fits in exactly +with my principles: it is the unexpected which always +brings satisfaction.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle’s praise is distinctly a man’s approval,” Helen +protested. “From a woman’s standpoint Jack’s methods<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +represent the acme of tyranny. No inquiries as to where +we prefer to be spirited, no suggestions that our opinions +are worth consulting, no suspicion that we are other than +clay in the potter’s hands; simply, ‘The machine is +ready. Please hurry.’ Yes, we are coming,” Helen +hurriedly added, seeing Jack’s impatience over the bantering, +“we are coming!”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>, and the cook were avowed enemies +of the motor-car, not only because of the effect it had +produced upon the household arrangements, but also because +of the intrusion of the French chauffeur which it +had forced upon them. They would die rather than show +the slightest interest in it, yet on one pretext or another +they never allowed the machine to start out without regarding +it with secret admiration and respect. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>, +on this particular morning, was gathering roses on the +terrace, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> was closing a shutter on the veranda, +while the cook’s red face peered around the corner of the +villa. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> crossed himself as the engine started up, +then jumped and fell squarely into his rose-basket as the +chauffeur maliciously pressed the bulb, and the machine +moved majestically past him, out of the court-yard, and +into the narrow road.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame these people for resenting the invasion +of motor-cars and other evidences of modern progress,” +said Inez as they reached the level; “it is all so out of +keeping with everything around them and with everything +they have been brought up to regard as right and +proper.”</p> + +<p>“But ‘these people’ represent only one portion of the +Italians, Miss Thayer,” replied Uncle Peabody. “Italian +civic life contains two great contrasting factors—one +practical, the other ideal. Each in its way is proud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +of the past; the first thinks more of the present and the +future, while the second, opposed on principle to innovations, +only accepts, and then under protest, those which +come from Italian sources. This car we are riding in +is of French manufacture. Were it Italian, you would +find that it would have been greeted with smiles instead +of scowls just now. And yet I like their patriotism.”</p> + +<p>“But it does seem a sacrilege for the wonderful old +towers and walls here in Florence to be torn down to +make room for prosaic twentieth-century trolley-cars,” +Helen added.</p> + +<p>“And Mr. Armstrong says there is talk of a board +road being built for automobiles between <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Mestre</span> and +Venice. What will dear old Italy be when ‘modern +civilization’ has finished with her?” Inez asked.</p> + +<p>“From present tendencies,” remarked Uncle Peabody, +gravely, “I expect to live to see the day when the Venetian +gondola will be propelled by gasolene; when the +Leaning Tower of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pisa</span> will either be straightened by +some enterprising American engineer or made to lean a +bit more, so that automobiles may make the ascent, even +as the Colosseum at Rome is already turned over to Buffalo +Bill or some other descendant of Barnum’s circus +for regular performances, including the pink lemonade +and the peanuts.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” Inez cried. “It would be far better to go +to the other extreme, which Mr. Armstrong would like +to see.”</p> + +<p>The road was level and smooth, now that the rough +streets of the city lay behind them, and there was nothing +to think of until after reaching <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Empoli</span>. Armstrong +had been running the machine, and he turned his head +just in time to hear Inez’ last remark.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I can imagine what the conversation is, even though +I have not heard much of it,” he said, “and I am +sure that I agree with Miss Thayer. How about getting +back to our work at the library to-morrow?” he +added.</p> + +<p>Inez flushed at the suddenness of the question, and +Helen caught her breath. The time for her decision, +then, was near at hand.</p> + +<p>“I am as eager as you are to resume it,” replied Inez, +her face lighting with pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Then it is all arranged,” Armstrong said, decisively. +“Helen and Uncle Peabody may have the machine to-morrow, +and we will start in again where we left off.”</p> + +<p>The <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span> winds around and about in a hundred curves +between Florence and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pisa</span>, leaving the road for some +little distance at times, but ever coming back to it in +flirtatious manner. The fields stretch away between the +river and the road in undulating green. Small hamlets +like <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Romano</span>, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">La Rotta</span>, and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Navacchio</span>, and the +more pretentious settlements of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Signa</span>, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Empoli</span>, and +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pontedera</span> give variety to the ride and add by their old-time +strangeness to the beauties which Nature so bountifully +supplies. But the climax comes at the end of the +journey, after crossing the tracks at the very modern +station and the bridge which spans the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Arno</span>. Over the +roofs of the quaint twelfth-century houses rise the Cathedral +and the Leaning Tower and the pillared dome +of the Baptistry.</p> + +<p>The motor-car was halted in front of the little doorway +of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Hôtel Nettuno</span>, where the host appeared with +all his affability, offering opportunities for removing the +dust accumulated by the ride, and a choice <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">colazione</i> to +be ready as soon as might be desired. Helen was preoccupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +during the preparations for luncheon, but Inez’ +excitement over her first visit to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Pisa</span>, and Armstrong’s +eagerness to watch the effect of the early impressions, +saved her changed demeanor from attracting any attention.</p> + +<p>“It is hard to realize that this is the city of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Ugolino</span> +and the Tower of Hunger after this sumptuous repast,” +remarked Jack, lighting his cigarette with much satisfaction +as coffee was being served.</p> + +<p>“Probably the ‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nettuno</span>’ was not in existence at that +time,” suggested Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“Is this not where the wonderful echo is to be heard?” +inquired Inez.</p> + +<p>“Yes—at the Baptistry,” Armstrong replied; “and +you are sure to enjoy it—the sacristan makes up such a +funny face when he intones.”</p> + +<p>“The echo at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Montecatini</span>, I understand, is taking a +long vacation,” observed Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“How so?” inquired Inez, innocently.</p> + +<p>“The regular echo was ill, and the sacristan failed +to coach the new boy properly. The visitor called, +‘What is the hour?’ and the echo came back, ‘Four +o’clock’!”</p> + +<p>Jack and Inez led the way from the hotel, through the +narrow walled streets and under the gateway to the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza del Duomo</span>, where all the splendor of the marvellous +group of buildings burst upon them. Helen pleaded +fatigue and asked to be left in the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Duomo</span> while the +others set out to climb the Leaning Tower and to inspect +the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Campo Santo</span>; so Uncle Peabody insisted on +staying with her. They sat down on one of the wooden +benches beneath the lamp of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Galileo</span>, and Helen rested +her head upon her hand. Uncle Peabody watched her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +curiously for a moment. Finally he took her hand quietly +in his. Helen started.</p> + +<p>“I would do it if I were you, Helen,” he said, deliberately.</p> + +<p>“Do what?” she asked, surprised into confusion.</p> + +<p>“Just what you were thinking of doing when I interrupted +you.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what I was thinking, then?”</p> + +<p>“No.” Uncle Peabody spoke in a very matter-of-fact +way. “But I am sure it is the right thing to do.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked at him steadily, uncertain of just how +far he had surmised her secret thought. There was +nothing in the calm, unruffled expression which gave +her even an inkling as to whether her peculiar sensation +was caused by his intuition or her own self-consciousness. +Then her gaze relaxed, and she laughed half-heartedly.</p> + +<p>“You have mislaid your divining-cap this time,” +Helen said at length. “If you had really read my +mind your advice would have been quite different.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was undisturbed. “In that case you +will exercise your woman’s prerogative and change it +within the next twenty-four hours. When that has taken +place you will find that my advice fits it exactly.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I had your confidence, Uncle Peabody.” +Helen rose suddenly and held out her hand to her companion. +“Come, let us go into the sunlight, where things +look more cheerful.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody watched the figure militant as Helen +preceded him down the broad aisle, past the small altars, +and out into the air. He recalled this same attitude when +Helen had been a child, and he remembered the determination +and the strength of will which went with it at +that time. He had forgotten this characteristic in meeting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +his niece grown to womanhood and in the midst of +such apparently congenial surroundings. Now he felt +that he knew the occasion for its reappearance.</p> + +<p>Inez and Jack soon joined them, and together they +returned to the hotel. A few moments later the car was +gliding back toward Florence again, in the refreshing +cool of the afternoon, with changed color effects to give +new impressions to the panorama of the morning. They +were almost home when Armstrong turned suddenly to +Helen:</p> + +<p>“How absolutely stupid of me!” he said, abruptly. +“I met Phil Emory on the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lung’ Arno</span> yesterday and +asked him to take dinner with us to-night.” Armstrong +looked at his watch. “We shall be just about in time, +anyhow, but I am sorry not to have told you about it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>X</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>When Helen Cartwright had accepted Phil +Emory as escort for the Harvard Class Day +festivities, on the occasion of his graduation, +every one had considered the matter of their engagement +as settled; that is to say, every one except Helen and +Emory. This view of the matter did not occur to Helen, +even as a remote possibility, and Phil Emory had absolute +knowledge to the contrary, since Helen herself had +answered his question very clearly, even though not satisfactorily, +some months before this event took place. But +she liked him immensely none the less, and saw no reason +why she should not throw confetti at him from the circus-like +seats of the Stadium, or eat strawberries and ices +with him and her other friends at the various Class Day +spreads. In fact, she saw every reason for doing so, +inasmuch as she thoroughly enjoyed it; and Emory was +proud enough to act as host under any conditions whatever.</p> + +<p>After graduation Emory probably had as good a +chance as any one until Jack Armstrong entered the +field. The younger man had become more and more intense +in his devotion, but when he found himself out-classed +by the force of Armstrong’s attack he accepted +his defeat generously and philosophically. No one contributed +more to the jollity of the wedding breakfast or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +extended heartier congratulations to the bride and bridegroom.</p> + +<p>Emory’s visit at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>, when he first +arrived in Italy, was one of the pleasantest experiences +of his whole trip thus far. Never had he seen a more +glorious spot, and never had he seen Helen so radiantly +beautiful. He had remarked to Eustis more than once +during their stay that an Italian background was the +one thing needful to show off Helen’s charms to the +greatest perfection. When he returned to Florence, +therefore, he determined to see her again, making his +belated duty call the excuse; so the fortunate meeting +with Armstrong and the invitation which resulted fitted +in most agreeably with his plans.</p> + +<p>The automobile passed Emory in his <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">vettura</i> half-way +up the hill. “Good-bye, old chap! Must hurry, as we +have company coming for dinner!” cried Armstrong, +gayly, as the machine glided past him, giving him only +a vision of waving hands before he became enveloped in +the cloud of dust. When he arrived at the villa he found +Helen and Jack awaiting him as if they had been at home +all the afternoon.</p> + +<p>“This is a pleasant surprise, Phil,” said Helen, +cordially. “Until Jack told me you were in Florence +I supposed you and Dick Eustis had at least reached +London by this time.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Emory replied, as they walked into the garden; +“I only went as far north as Paris. Eustis continued +on to London, and is there now, I expect, but I ran across +Ferdy De Peyster in Paris. He had a frightfully sick +turn, and I had to take care of him for a while.”</p> + +<p>“Ferdy was sick, you say?” Helen was eagerly interested. +“You don’t mean dangerously so?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No—not as things turned out; but I will admit I +was a bit anxious about him for a time. He had been +terribly cut up over something, and then caught a beastly +cold on his lungs, and I thought he was in for a severe +case of pneumonia. He was pretty sandy about it, and +in a week he came around all right. I took him over +to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Aix</span>, where I left him, and then I decided to sail home +from Naples instead of Southampton.”</p> + +<p>“Did he tell you what the trouble was?” Helen was +anxious to know how confidential De Peyster had been.</p> + +<p>“Oh, an <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">affaire de cœur</i> he said; but he did not tell +me who the girl was. He spoke of his call on you and +Miss Thayer, here, shortly after we departed, but the +poor chap was not very communicative.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me for deserting you, Emory,” interrupted +Armstrong as he approached them from the house, closely +followed by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> bearing a tray. “This is one +part of the dinner which I never leave to any one else. +These Italians know a lot of things better than we do, +but mixing cocktails is not one of their long suits.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove! that is a grateful reward to a dusty +throat!” said Emory, replacing the glass on the tray.</p> + +<p>“And now to dinner,” announced Helen. “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> +bids us enter.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody and Miss Thayer joined them at the +table.</p> + +<p>“I must tell you, Mr. Cartwright,” said Emory, after +the greetings were over, “that what you said about eating +when I was here before made quite an impression +on me, and I have been trying your methods a little.”</p> + +<p>“Good for you!” cried Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“I really think I ought to make a confession,” Emory +continued. “I had heard about your work and all that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +but I had an idea that you were more or less of a crank, +and that your theories were the usual ones which go +with a new fad. But when you talked about understanding +and running properly one’s own motive power +it appealed to me as being sensible. Then your idea that +the appetite is given one to tell him what the system +needs sounded reasonable to me; and when you insisted +that this same appetite had a right to be consulted as to +when enough fuel was on board I woke up to a realization +that I had not always been that respectful to myself.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody smiled genially. “Have you found +the experiment very disagreeable?”</p> + +<p>“By no means,” replied Emory, decidedly. “Of +course, I started in on it more as a joke than anything +else, but I have been surprised to find how much more +I really enjoy my food. Why, there are flavors in a +piece of bread which I never discovered until I chewed +it all to pieces.”</p> + +<p>“That is on the same principle exactly that a tea-taster +or a wine-taster discovers the real flavor of the particular +variety he is testing. That is one thing which +gave me my idea. He sips a little and then thoroughly +mixes it with the saliva, and in that way tastes the delicate +aroma which the glutton never knows either in drink +or food.”</p> + +<p>“How does the system work with the elaborate Continental +<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">table d’hôte</i>, Mr. Emory?” queried Miss Thayer.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody answered for him: “You became an +object of suspicion to the head-waiter, and the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">garçon</i> +thought you were criticising the food.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” laughed Emory. “But, all joking aside, +Mr. Cartwright, I have become a confirmed disciple.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +I never felt so well, and I am eating about half as much +as I used to.”</p> + +<p>“This seems to be developing into an experience meeting,” +Armstrong remarked. “Why don’t you write out +a testimonial for the gentleman?”</p> + +<p>“I would gladly do so, but from what I hear he stands +in no need of any such document.”</p> + +<p>Emory turned to Uncle Peabody. “It is a case of +being ‘advertised by our grateful friends,’ is it not, Mr. +Cartwright?”</p> + +<p>“How long will you be in Florence, Phil?” asked +Helen. “Are you just passing through again, or is +this where you make your visit to the City of Flowers?”</p> + +<p>“I have no definite plans. My steamer doesn’t sail +for a month, and I am moving along as the wind blows +me. Are the Sinclair girls still here?”</p> + +<p>“No; they sailed for home last week.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you stay in Florence for a while and +help Helen exercise the automobile?” suggested Armstrong. +“Miss Thayer and I are working every day at +the library, and it will prevent her becoming lonesome.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked inquiringly at her husband. This suggestion +from him, and to Phil Emory of all men! The +times had indeed altered! She saw that Emory was +observing her, and felt the necessity of relieving the +tension.</p> + +<p>“You must not put it on that score, Jack,” she said, +quietly. “I am not at all lonely, but I should be very +glad to have Phil join us to-morrow. What do you say, +Phil?”</p> + +<p>“I should like nothing better. But tell me about this +work, Armstrong. Are you really boning down to arduous +labor on your honeymoon?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It is a bit out of the ordinary, is it not?” admitted +Jack, uncertain whether or not Emory’s question contained +a reproach. “I would not dare do it with any +one except Helen, but she understands the necessity. I +don’t know when I shall get another chance.”</p> + +<p>“Jack is accomplishing wonders in his work,” explained +Helen, anxious to have Emory feel her entire sympathy; +“you must have him tell you about it. In the +mean time, while he is improving himself mentally, Uncle +Peabody and I are entering somewhat into the social +frivolities of Florence. To-morrow we are going to a +reception to be given to the Count of Turin and the +Florentine Dante Society at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Londi</span>. Jack +scorns these functions, but you will be quite in your +element. We will take you with us.”</p> + +<p>“It is not that I ‘scorn’ these things, as you say, +Helen,” protested Armstrong. “You give any one an +entirely wrong idea. They are all right enough in their +own way, but I can get these at home. This chance at +the library, however, is one in a lifetime, and I feel that +I must improve it.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” replied Helen, “that is what I meant to +say.”</p> + +<p>Emory glanced from one to the other quietly. “I +shall be most happy to go if you are quite sure I won’t +interfere with the plans you have already made. You +know I am not on speaking terms with Italian.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t have to be,” Uncle Peabody assured him. +“These Italians speak English so well that you will be +ashamed of your ignorance. You will have no difficulty +in making yourself understood.”</p> + +<p>Helen was rebellious at heart that Jack should have +suggested Emory to relieve her loneliness. It was enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +that he was willing to be away from her so much without +taking it for granted and referring to it in such a +matter-of-fact way. Inez as well came in for her share +of the resentment, her very silence during the discussion +serving to aggravate Helen’s discomfiture. Helen deliberately +turned the conversation.</p> + +<p>“I can’t help thinking of poor Ferdy, Phil. Have +you heard from him since you left him at <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Aix</span>?”</p> + +<p>“No, but I should have heard if all had not been going +well.”</p> + +<p>“What is the matter with De Peyster?” asked Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you did not hear what Phil told me about him +before dinner, Jack. He has been very ill, and Phil took +him over to <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Aix</span> for a cure.”</p> + +<p>It was the first time De Peyster’s name had been mentioned +since his abrupt departure, and Inez flushed deeply +as she listened.</p> + +<p>“What was the trouble, Emory?” asked Armstrong, +innocently.</p> + +<p>“He came pretty near having pneumonia,” replied +Emory. “He was hard hit with a girl somewhere over +here, and was thrown down, I suspect. Then he grew +careless and was a pretty sick chap when I ran across +him in Paris.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong had no idea of the result of his question. +He glanced hastily at Inez and gulped down half a glass +of wine, nearly choking himself in the process.</p> + +<p>“There you go!” exclaimed Uncle Peabody, quite understanding +the situation and wishing to relieve the embarrassment. +“You will drown yourself one of these +fine days if you don’t listen to my teachings and profit +by Mr. Emory’s example.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Emory was quite unconscious of the delicate +ground upon which he trod. The days and nights +he had spent with De Peyster were still strongly impressed +upon his mind.</p> + +<p>“I thought you might know something about this, +Helen,” he continued, “for Ferdy mentioned your name +and Miss Thayer’s several times while he was delirious. +I could not make out anything he said, he was so incoherent. +Later, when he began to improve, I asked him +about it, but he evidently did not care to talk. But how +stupid I have been!” He broke off suddenly and turned +to Miss Thayer. “Here I have been sitting beside you +all this time and never once offered my congratulations!”</p> + +<p>Inez drew back from the proffered hand. The color +left her face as suddenly as it had come. “What do +you mean?” she stammered.</p> + +<p>“Why, De Peyster told me you were engaged,” Emory +said, quite taken aback. “Have I said something I +ought not to? He said you told him so.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. De Peyster had no right to say that!” Inez +cried, fiercely, almost breaking into tears.</p> + +<p>Emory was most contrite. “Ten thousand pardons,” +he apologized. “You must forgive me, Miss Thayer. +Ferdy never suggested that it was a secret at all—and +now I have given the whole thing away!”</p> + +<p>Emory wished himself half-way across the Atlantic.</p> + +<p>“I am very much annoyed,” replied Inez, still struggling +to contain herself—“not with you, but with Mr. +De Peyster.”</p> + +<p>“But she is not engaged,” Armstrong insisted, with +decision.</p> + +<p>“I think Inez had better be left to settle that point +herself, Jack,” Helen interrupted, pointedly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then why does she not settle it?”</p> + +<p>“I will settle it.” Inez sat up very straight in her +chair, her tense features making her face look drawn in +its ashy paleness.</p> + +<p>“Jack has no right to force you into any such position, +Inez,” Helen protested, indignantly; “he is forgetting +himself.”</p> + +<p>“De Peyster is responsible for the whole thing.” +Emory struggled to step in between the clash of arms. +“I recall the very words. ‘Phil, old chap,’ he said, ‘you +remember Miss Thayer? She is engaged. She told me +she had found some one whom she loved better than her +life.’ Can you blame me for making such a consummate +ass of myself?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s intense interest had taken him too deeply +into the affair for him to heed Helen’s protests.</p> + +<p>“You never said anything of the kind, did you, Miss +Thayer?”</p> + +<p>“I am not engaged,” replied Inez, very firmly, “and +I cannot understand why Mr. De Peyster should have +put me in this uncomfortable position.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” assented Armstrong, with evident +satisfaction. “De Peyster is a fool. I will tell him so +the next time I see him.”</p> + +<p>“I think we had better change the subject,” said +Helen, rising, her face flushed with indignation. “The +methods of the Inquisition have no place at a modern +dinner-table.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Inez Thayer had congratulated herself upon her +success in keeping her secret. Since her searching +self-examination and the harrowing experience during +De Peyster’s brief visit she had spent many hours inwardly +debating the proper steps to take in order to +solve her problem. She was certain that no one knew +the real state of affairs, and with this certainty the only +danger lay in its effect upon herself. But she knew all +too well that this danger was indeed a real one. Day +by day her admiration for Armstrong increased, and +with that admiration her affection waxed stronger and +stronger. Those hours together at the library—when +they were quite alone, when his face, in their joint absorption +in their work, almost touched hers, when his +hand rested unconsciously for a moment upon her own—were +to her moments in the Elysian Fields, and she +quaffed deeply of the intoxicating draught. What harm, +she argued to herself, since her companion was oblivious +to her hidden sentiments—what disloyalty to her friend, +since the pain must all be hers? And the pain was hers +already—why not revel in its ecstasy while it lasted?</p> + +<p>With her conscience partially eased by her labored +conclusions, Inez threw herself into a complete enjoyment +of her work. Helen’s attitude toward her had not +in any way altered, and she was still apparently entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +agreeable to the arrangement. Her suggestion to join +them in their labors was the only evidence which Inez +had seen that perhaps her friend was becoming restless, +even though not ready to raise any objections; but when +Helen herself gave up the idea, after her single visit to +the library, Inez was convinced that she had misunderstood +her motive. Nothing remained, therefore, but to +accept her previous argument that she was simply following +the inexorable guidance of Fate, with herself +the only possible victim. It was uncomfortable, it was +wearing, but she could not, she repeated over and over +again, remove herself from the exquisite suffering of her +surroundings until she was absolutely obliged to do so.</p> + +<p>The episode at the dinner-table completely shattered +the structure she had built, and its sudden demolition +stunned her. This she vaguely realized as she and +Helen left the men at the table and walked to the veranda +for their coffee. Their departure was in itself an +evidence of new and strained conditions, as both Helen +and Jack regarded the coffee-and-cigar period as the +best part of every dinner and a part to be enjoyed together. +Helen had not yet acquired the Continental +cigarette habit, but, as she had once expressed it, “Men +are so good-natured right after dinner, when they are +stuffed, and so happy when they are making silly little +clouds of smoke!”</p> + +<p>Inez hesitatingly passed her arm around her friend’s +waist, and when Helen drew her closely to her she rested +her head against her shoulder, relaxing like a tired +child.</p> + +<p>“Who would have expected this outcome of such a +happy day?” Inez queried, sadly, as the two girls seated +themselves upon the wicker divan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Jack was a brute!” exclaimed Helen, almost savagely.</p> + +<p>“It is all my own fault, Helen; but I could not tell +them so in there.”</p> + +<p>Helen appeared astonished. “How do you mean? +Are you really engaged, after all?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, Helen; but you see when Ferdy urged me +so hard for an answer I had to tell him something.”</p> + +<p>Inez glanced up at Helen to see how she took her explanation.</p> + +<p>“So you told him you were engaged?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly that, but—”</p> + +<p>“That you loved some one better than your life?”</p> + +<p>Inez shrank a little as she answered. “Something +like that,” she admitted.</p> + +<p>“And it was not true?”</p> + +<p>Inez laughed nervously. “What an absurd question, +Helen! You know I have seen almost no one since I came +here.”</p> + +<p>“Except Jack,” said Helen, impulsively.</p> + +<p>Inez sprang to her feet. “What do you mean, Helen? +You don’t accuse me of being in love with your husband, +do you?”</p> + +<p>Helen pulled her down beside her again. “Don’t be +tragic, dear,” she said, quietly. “I admit that the suggestion +is unkind, after the display Jack made of himself +at the table. I am provoked with him myself.”</p> + +<p>“Helen,”—Inez spoke abruptly, after a moment’s silence—“I +think I ought to leave Florence.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be absurd, Inez. You are worked up over +this miserable affair, but you will forget all about it in +the morning—when you get back to your work at the library.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No; this time I really mean what I say. I ought to +have gone when my visit was up a fortnight ago; but +you were so sweet in urging me to stay, and the work +had developed with such increasing interest, that I have +just stayed on and on.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry if you regret having stayed, dear. It +certainly seemed to be for the best.”</p> + +<p>“But see what it has brought on you, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“I am not proud of my husband’s behavior, I admit; +but you have even greater cause to feel annoyed than I.”</p> + +<p>Inez seemed to be drifting hopelessly in her attempt +to find the right thing to say.</p> + +<p>“I have felt that I ought to go for a long time.”</p> + +<p>“A long time?” Helen echoed. “Has Jack behaved +as badly as this before?”</p> + +<p>“Not that; it is the library work which makes me feel +so.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder you are getting tired of it.”</p> + +<p>“Tired of it! Oh, Helen, I wish you could get as +much joy out of anything as I do out of this work. +Tired of it!” Inez laughed aloud at the absurdity of +the suggestion. Then she grew serious again. “I know +I ought to leave it, yet I cannot force myself to make +the break.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I understand,” said Helen, quietly, +watching intently the struggle through which the girl +was passing.</p> + +<p>“I know you don’t, and I don’t believe I could make +any one understand it,” replied Inez, helplessly.</p> + +<p>“You talk about it in this mysterious way just as +Jack does,” continued Helen. “There must be some +sort of spell about it, for you both are changed beings +since your first visit to the library.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then you have noticed it?” Inez looked up anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Of course I have noticed it,” admitted Helen, frankly. +“How could I help it when you yourself feel it so +strongly?”</p> + +<p>“Do you blame me for it?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I blame you, Inez? Is there any reason +why I should blame any one?”</p> + +<p>“No, except that the work takes your husband away +from you so much.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t hold you responsible for that, can I? +It is the work which draws you both, is it not—not each +the other?”</p> + +<p>Inez moved uneasily and withdrew her hand from +Helen’s lap. “Of course it is the work,” she answered, +quietly; “but, frankly, would you not rather have it +discontinued?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Helen, without hesitation; “but I sincerely +wish Jack might be less completely absorbed by +it. I have no intention of opposing it, and I am willing +to sacrifice much for its success, yet I see no reason why +it should so wholly deprive me of my husband.”</p> + +<p>“It has opened up an entirely new world for me.” +Inez seemed suddenly obsessed by a reminiscent thought. +Her troubled expression changed into one of rapt ecstasy. +Helen watched the transformation, deeply impressed by +the strange new light which she saw in the girl’s eyes. +“I must be more impressionable than I supposed,” she +continued, “for it all seems so real. I can see <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>’s +face as I read his letters; I can see his lips move, +his expression change—I can even hear his voice. I have +watched him fashion the great David out of the discarded +marble; I have heard his discussions with Pope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +Julius and Pope Leo; I have witnessed his struggle with +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Palazzo Vecchio</span>. The events come so +fast, and the letters give such minute information upon +so many topics, that I actually feel myself in the midst +of it all. I know <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Vittoria Colonna</span> as well as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> +ever did, and I know far better than he why she +refused to marry him. All these great characters, and +others, live and move and converse with us these mornings +at the library.” Inez paused to get her breath. +She was talking very fast. “I know it sounds uncanny,” +she went on, “but there is something in the very +atmosphere which makes me forget who or what I am. +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> comes and stands beside us, rubbing his hands together +and smiling, and yet we hardly notice him. He +is a part of it all. What he says seems no more real +than the conversations and the communions we have with +the others who died centuries ago. I realize how inexplicable +all this must sound to you, because I find myself +absolutely unable to explain it to myself. It must be a +spell, as you say, but I have no strength to break it.”</p> + +<p>“It must be something,” Helen admitted, gravely, +“to affect both you and Jack the same way. I wonder +what it is?”</p> + +<p>Inez paid no heed to the interrogation. “You should +see your husband, Helen, when he is at his work. You +don’t really know him as you see him here.”</p> + +<p>Helen felt herself impressed even more strongly than +she had been during her visit to the library. Inez spoke +with the same intensity and conviction which at that +time had overwhelmed her previously conceived plans.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> said the same thing—” she began.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> is right,” Inez interrupted. “Your husband +is a god among them all. He is not a mere student,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +searching for facts, but one of those great spirits themselves, +looking into their lives and their characters with +a power and an intimacy which only a contemporary and +an equal could do. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> says that his book will be a +masterpiece—that it will place him among the great <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">savants</i> +of his time. No such work has been produced in +years; and you will be so proud of him, Helen—so +proud that he belongs to you! Is it not worth the sacrifice?”</p> + +<p>As her friend paused Helen bowed her head in silence. +“So proud that he belongs to you,” Inez had just said. +Did he belong to her—had he ever belonged to her? The +new light in Inez’ eyes, the intensity of her words, both +convinced and controlled her. What was she, even +though his wife, to stand in the way of such a championship? +What were the conventions of commonplace domestic +life in the presence of this all-compelling genius? +She felt her resentment against Jack become unimportant. +With such absorption it was but natural that he +should not act like other men.</p> + +<p>The sound of voices in the hall brought both girls to +themselves.</p> + +<p>“Dare we come out?” asked Uncle Peabody, cautiously, +pausing at the door. “These back-sliders are very +repentant, and I will vouch for their good behavior.”</p> + +<p>“There is only one of us who requires forgiveness,” +added Armstrong, frankly, advancing to the divan. “I +owe you both an apology; first of all to my wife, for not +heeding her good advice, and then to my ‘sister-worker,’ +as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> calls her, for adding to her discomfiture.”</p> + +<p>“If Inez will forgive you, I will cheerfully add my +absolution,” replied Helen, forcing a smile.</p> + +<p>“I was really afraid that I was going to lose my right-hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +man,” continued Armstrong by way of explanation, +“and my work must then have come to an abrupt +conclusion.”</p> + +<p>“You give me altogether too much credit,” replied +Inez. “The work is already so much a part of yourself +that you could not drop it if you lost a dozen ‘sister-workers.’”</p> + +<p>“It must never come to that, Jack,” added Helen, +seriously. “Inez will surely stay until the book is completed, +and I shall do what little I can to help it to a +glorious success.”</p> + +<p>“You are a sweet, sympathizing little wife.” Armstrong +placed his hand affectionately upon her shoulder. +“Your interest in it will be all that I need to make it so.”</p> + +<p>Emory and Uncle Peabody instinctively glanced at +each other, and for a moment their eyes met. It was but +an instant, yet in that brief exchange each knew where +the other stood.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<hr class="l3"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II<br /><br /> + +VICTIM OF FATE</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> +<h3>XII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>All Florence—social, literary, and artistic—was at +the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Londi</span> reception. The ancient villa, once the +possession of the great Dante, fell into gentle hands +when the present owner, thirty years before, entered into +an appreciative enjoyment of his newly acquired property. +The structure itself was preserved and restored +without destroying the original beauty of its architecture; +the walls were renovated and hung with rich tapestries +and rare paintings; priceless statuary found a +place in the courts and corridors, but with such perfect +taste that one felt instinctively that each piece belonged +exactly where it stood as a part of the complete harmony.</p> + +<p>Florentine society possesses two strong characteristics—hospitality +and sincerity. No people in the world so +cordially welcome strangers who come properly introduced +to settle temporarily in their midst; no people so +plainly manifest their estimates of their adopted aliens. +There is no half-way, there is no compromise. They +are courteous always, they are considerate even when they +disapprove; but when once they accept the stranger into +their circle they make him feel that he is and always +has been a part of themselves.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody had won this place long since. His +genial disposition and quiet philosophy appealed to them +from the first by its very contrast to their own impulsive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +Latin temperament. It was an easy matter, therefore, +for him to introduce his niece to those whom he counted +among his friends, and this he made it a point to +do when he discovered how much she would otherwise +have been alone. Helen had ceased to urge Jack to accompany +her, and he seemed quite content to be omitted. +Their first weeks in Florence had been devoted to getting +settled in their villa and in rambling over the surrounding +hills, entirely satisfied with their own society. The house-party +had taken up another week, and even before the +guests had departed Armstrong began his researches at +the library, which required a larger portion of each day +as time went on. The moment when Helen and Jack +would naturally have jointly assumed their social pleasures +and responsibilities had passed, and the necessity for +diversion of some kind prompted Helen gratefully to accept +her uncle as a substitute.</p> + +<p>“There is a countrywoman of ours—the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa +Morelli</span>,” Uncle Peabody remarked, as he skilfully piloted +Helen and Emory away from the crush in the reception-hall, +indicating a strikingly attractive woman surrounded +by a group of Italian gallants. “She came +from Milwaukee, I believe, and married the title, with +the husband thrown in as a gratuity for good measure.”</p> + +<p>“She looks far too refined and agreeable to answer +to your description,” Helen replied, after regarding the +object of his comments.</p> + +<p>“She is refined and agreeable,” assented Uncle Peabody, +“and—worldly. When you have once seen the +count you will understand. She is a neighbor of yours, +so you must meet her—the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Morelli</span> is scarcely a +quarter of a mile beyond the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t overlook me in the introduction, will you?” +urged Emory, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Still as fond as ever of a pretty face, Phil?” queried +Helen, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he acquiesced, cheerfully; “but this is +a case of national pride. You and she—the two American +Beauties present—would make any American proud +of his country.”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled and held up a finger warningly as she +followed Uncle Peabody’s lead. The contessa acknowledged +the introductions with much cordiality, but to +Emory’s disappointment devoted herself at once to +Helen.</p> + +<p>“So you are from dear, old, chilly Boston,” she said, +breezily. “The last time I passed through was on a +July day, and I was so glad I had my furs with me.”</p> + +<p>“Boston is celebrated for its east winds,” volunteered +Emory, calmly.</p> + +<p>The contessa glanced at him for a moment to make +sure that his misunderstanding was wilful.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied, meaningly; “and I understand +that in Boston the revised adage reads, ‘God tempers +the east wind to the blue-bloods.’”</p> + +<p>“And I was just going to say some nice things about +Milwaukee!” Emory continued.</p> + +<p>“Then it is just as well that I discouraged you,” the +contessa interrupted. “No one who has not lived there +can ever think of anything complimentary to say about +Milwaukee except to expatiate upon its beer. That +seems to mark the limitations of his acquaintance with +our city.”</p> + +<p>The contessa turned to Helen. “Mr. Cartwright tells +me that you and your husband are my mysterious neighbors,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +about whom we have had so much curiosity. You +must let me call on you very soon.”</p> + +<p>Helen was studying her new acquaintance with much +interest. Her features were as clearly cut as if the work +of a master-sculptor, yet nature had improved upon +human skill by adding a color to the cheeks and a +vivacity to the eye which made their owner irresistible +to all who met her; while the simple elegance of her +lingerie gown, in striking contrast to the dress of the +Italian women near her, set off to advantage the lines of +her graceful figure. She was a few years older than +Helen, yet evidently a younger woman in years than in +experience. Uncle Peabody’s comments had naturally +prejudiced Helen to an extent, yet she could not resist +a certain appeal which unconsciously attracted her.</p> + +<p>“I hope we may see much of each other,” the contessa +continued, cordially, scarcely giving Helen an opportunity +even for perfunctory replies. “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> is housed +by the gout at least half of the time, and he bores me to +death with his description of the various symptoms. I +will run over to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> and let you rehearse +your troubles for a change. But, of course, you have +no troubles—Mr. Cartwright said you were a bride, did +he not?”</p> + +<p>The contessa noticed the color which came in Helen’s +face, and her experience, tempered by her intuition, told +her that it was not a blush of pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Where is your husband?” she asked, pointedly. +“You must present him to me.”</p> + +<p>“He is engaged upon some literary work at the library,” +Helen replied.</p> + +<p>“Oh, a learned man! That is almost as bad as the +gout!” The contessa held up her hands in mock horror.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +“Then you will need my sympathy, after all,” she +said, with finality. “Oh, these husbands!—these husbands!”</p> + +<p>It was a relief to Helen when other guests claimed the +contessa’s attention. Uncle Peabody had mingled with +friends in the drawing-room, so she and Emory moved +on in the same direction. Here she found many whom +she had previously met, and for half an hour held a +court as large and as admiring as the contessa’s. Emory +was quite unprepared to find his companion so much at +home in this different atmosphere.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, Helen,” he whispered, as he finally discovered +an opportunity to converse with her again, +“one would think you had always lived in Florence. +If it were not for the gold lace of the army officers and +the white heads of the ancient gallants who flock about +you, I should almost imagine we were at the Assemblies +again.”</p> + +<p>“Every one is cordiality itself,” replied Helen. “See +Uncle Peabody over there! Is he not having a good +time? He told me Professor Tesso, of the University of +Turin, was to be here, and I presume that is he.”</p> + +<p>Following the example of the other guests, Helen and +Emory strolled out into the main court, in one corner +of which is the old well dating back to the time when +the Divine Poet slaked his thirst at its stony brim. The +sun streamed in through the narrow windows and lighted +the terra-cotta flagstones where its rays struck, making +the extreme corners of the court seem even dimmer. With +rare restraint, the only decoration consisted of long +festoons, made of lemons, pomegranates, eucalyptus, +oranges, and laurel, fashioned to resemble the majolicas +of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Della Robbia</span> and hung gracefully along the stone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +balcony, between which was an occasional rare old rug +or costly tapestry. Passing slowly up the spacious stairway, +stopped now and again by one or more of Helen’s +newly acquired friends, they reached the library, where +some of the more valuable manuscripts and early printed +volumes were exposed to view. A group of book-lovers +were eagerly examining an edition of Dante resting upon +a graceful thirteenth-century <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">leggio</i>, printed by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo +Della Magna</span>, and illustrated with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Botticelli</span>’s remarkable +engravings. From the balcony, leading out from +the library, they gained a view of the carefully laid-out +garden, brilliant in its color display and redolent with +the mingled fragrance of myriads of blossoms.</p> + +<p>Here Uncle Peabody rejoined them, bringing with him +the scholarly looking professor from Turin.</p> + +<p>“Helen, I want you to meet Professor Tesso. He +was among the first who saw in my theories and experiments +any signs of merit.”</p> + +<p>The professor held up his hand deprecatingly. “You +give me too much credit, Mr. Cartwright. Judicially, +we men of science are all hidebound and look upon every +innovation as erroneous until proved otherwise. We +could not believe that your theories of body requirements +of food were sound because they differed so radically +from what we had come to regard as standard. +But when you proved yourself right by actual experiment +we had no choice in the matter.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle Peabody has been very persistent,” said Helen, +smiling. “His own conviction in time becomes contagious, +does it not?”</p> + +<p>“That is just it,” assented Professor Tesso. “What +he had told us is something which we really should have +known all the time, but we failed to recognize its importance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +Now he has forced us to accept it, and the +credit is properly his.”</p> + +<p>“I have invited Professor Tesso to take tea with us +to-morrow afternoon, Helen, at the villa,” said Uncle +Peabody.</p> + +<p>“By all means,” Helen urged, cordially. “We shall +be so glad to welcome you there.”</p> + +<p>The sudden exodus of the guests gave notice that +something unusual was occurring below.</p> + +<p>“It must be the arrival of the Count of Turin,” explained +Uncle Peabody. “Let us descend and take a +look at Italian royalty.”</p> + +<p>With the others they entered the magnificent ball-room—a +modern addition to the original villa made by +Napoleon for his sister Pauline when she became Grand-Duchess +of Tuscany. In the centre of the room, surrounded +by his suite, stood the count, graciously receiving +the guests presented to him by his host. Hither +and thither among the crowd ran little flower-maidens +bestowing favors upon the ladies and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">boutonnières</i> upon +their escorts. A few pieces of music played quietly behind +a bank of palms, the low strains blending pleasantly +with the hum of conversation.</p> + +<p>As Helen and Emory stood with a few Italian friends, +a little apart from the others, watching the brilliant +throng, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> suddenly joined them. Helen had never +thought of him outside the library, and it seemed to +her as if one of the chained volumes had broken away +from its anchorage. The old man saw the surprise in +her face and smiled genially.</p> + +<p>“I seldom come to gatherings such as this,” he explained, +even before the question was put to him; “but +his Highness commanded me to meet him here.” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +smiled again and looked into Helen’s face with undisguised +admiration. “This is where you belong,” he +assured her, quietly but enthusiastically—“this is your +element. Do you not see that I was right that day at +the library? You are even more beautiful than when I +saw you before. There is a new strength in your face. +You are a creation of the master-artist, like a marvellous +painting which intoxicates the senses.”</p> + +<p>Helen had no answer, but the old man continued:</p> + +<p>“I have just left your husband and his sister-worker. +They are not beautiful—they represent the wisdom which +one finds in books. The world needs both, my daughter. +Be content.”</p> + +<p>And without waiting for a reply <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> disappeared +in the crowd of guests as suddenly as he had come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XIII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Emory was the only one near enough to Helen to +observe the interview with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>. The old man’s +words were uttered in too low a tone to reach his +ears, but Emory saw Helen close her eyes for a fraction +of a second and heard her draw a quick breath. Then +she turned to him with a smile so natural that he nearly +believed himself deceived, and found himself almost convinced +that he must have been mistaken in what he +thought he had discovered.</p> + +<p>“Whose little old man is that?” Emory queried.</p> + +<p>Helen laughed. Emory had a way of putting questions +in a form least expected.</p> + +<p>“Monsignor <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>,” she answered, “and he belongs +to Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he is the librarian!” Phil recognized the descriptions +he had heard at the villa. “Interesting-looking +old chap; I don’t wonder Jack likes him.”</p> + +<p>“He is a wonderful man,” assented Helen; “but his +knowledge almost frightens one. I feel like an ignorant +child every time I meet him.”</p> + +<p>They strolled slowly through the brilliant throng out +into the court, up the stairs, and into the library again. +The room was wholly deserted, the other guests preferring +to watch the spectacle below. No word was spoken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +until Helen threw herself into a great chair near the +balcony.</p> + +<p>“What an awful thing it is to have so little knowledge!” +she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Emory looked at her in surprise. At first he could +not believe her serious, but the expression on her face +was convincing.</p> + +<p>“Compared to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Compared to any one who has brains—like Jack or +Inez.”</p> + +<p>Emory studied his companion carefully. The impression +made upon him a few moments before, then, was +no hallucination.</p> + +<p>“What did <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> say which upset you, Helen?”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>?” Helen repeated. “Why, nothing. As a +matter of fact, he was very complimentary—even gallant. +Some of you younger men could take lessons from +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> in the gentle art of flattery.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Helen,” Emory apologized; +“I had no intention of intruding.”</p> + +<p>“Dear old Phil,” cried Helen, holding out her hand +impulsively, “of course you had not, and you could not +intrude, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Emory held the proffered hand a moment before it was +withdrawn. “I can’t help feeling concerned when I see +something disturb you,” he said, quietly—“now, any +more than I could before.”</p> + +<p>Helen saw that she had not succeeded in deceiving him, +but was determined that he should discover as little as +possible. “I don’t believe Florence is just the right atmosphere +for me,” she began. “I did not notice at first +how much more every one here knows about everything +than I do, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +is what I meant. Of course one expects this supreme +knowledge in a man like <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, but even those Florentines +whom one meets casually at receptions such as +this are as well informed on literature and art and music +as those whom we consider experts at home.”</p> + +<p>“This lack of knowledge on your part does not seem +to interfere any with their admiration for you,” insisted +Emory. “If Jack took the trouble to see how much attention +you received he might have a little less interest +in that precious work of his.”</p> + +<p>“You must not speak like that, Phil,” Helen protested. +“Jack is doing something which neither you +nor I can appreciate, but that is our own fault and not +his. I only wish I could understand it. Every one says +that his book will make him famous, and then we all +shall be proud of him—even prouder than we are now.”</p> + +<p>Emory rose impatiently. “You are quite right, +Helen,—I certainly don’t appreciate it, under the circumstances; +but I shall put my foot in this even worse +than I did yesterday with Miss Thayer, so I suggest +that we change the subject. Come, let us see what is +going on down-stairs.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody met them in the court. “I was coming +after you,” he said by way of explanation. “Tesso has +just left, and we also must make our <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">adieux</span>. Would you +mind taking Mr. Emory and me to the Florence Club, +Helen, on the way home? He might like to see it.”</p> + +<p>Their appearance in the hall was a signal for the unattached +men again to surround Helen with protestations +of regret that she had absented herself from the +reception-room, and Emory watched the episode with +grim satisfaction. Uncle Peabody appeared to take no +notice of anything except his responsibility, and gradually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +guided the party to where their host and hostess +were standing, and then out to the automobile. An invigorating +run down the hill, past the walls which shut +out all but the luxuriant verdure of the high cypresses, +alternating with the olive and lemon trees, and through +the town, brought them to the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza Vittorio Emanuele</span>, +where the car paused for a moment to allow the men to +alight. Then, after brief farewells, Helen continued her +ride alone to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody led the way up the stairs to a small +room leading off from the main parlor of the club. Producing +some cigars, he motioned to Emory to make himself +comfortable at one end of a great leather-covered +divan, while he drew up a chair for himself.</p> + +<p>“I brought you here for a definite purpose,” he announced +as soon as the preliminaries were arranged.</p> + +<p>“I think I can divine the purpose,” replied Emory, +striking a match and lighting his cigar.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody looked at his companion inquiringly.</p> + +<p>“It is about Helen, is it not?” continued Emory, without +waiting for Mr. Cartwright to question him.</p> + +<p>“It is,” assented Uncle Peabody; “and your intuition +makes my task the easier.”</p> + +<p>“It is not intuition,” corrected Emory; “it is observation.”</p> + +<p>“Well, call it what you like—the necessity is the +same. Perhaps I have no right to discuss this matter +with you, but I understand you have known Helen for +a good while and pretty well.”</p> + +<p>“So well that I would have married her if she had ever +given me the chance,” asserted Emory, calmly.</p> + +<p>“What do you make out of the case?”</p> + +<p>“The girl is desperately unhappy.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She is. But how are we going to help her without +making things a thousand times worse?”</p> + +<p>Emory smoked his cigar meditatively. “I have been +thinking of that, too,” he replied at length, “but with +no more success, apparently, than yourself. It is a +rather delicate matter.”</p> + +<p>“There is no question about that.” Uncle Peabody +spoke decisively. “And this is all the more reason why +we should talk things over together. We are the only +ones who can possibly straighten matters out, and I am +not at all certain that we can accomplish anything.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think Armstrong himself realizes the situation?”</p> + +<p>“Not in the slightest. He is absolutely absorbed.”</p> + +<p>“How about Miss Thayer?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody looked at Emory interrogatively. +“What have you observed about Miss Thayer?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“That she is exceedingly sensitive upon the subject +of her engagement,” replied Emory, with feeling.</p> + +<p>“Have you come to any conclusion as to the reason?”</p> + +<p>Emory was surprised by the implied meaning in Mr. +Cartwright’s words. “Why, no,” he said, slowly.</p> + +<p>“I was here when De Peyster proposed to her,” Uncle +Peabody continued.</p> + +<p>“Then she was the girl!”</p> + +<p>“She was the girl,” repeated his companion. “When +she threw him over, she did not tell him that she was engaged, +as he repeated to you, but that she loved some +one else.”</p> + +<p>A wave of understanding passed over Emory.</p> + +<p>“And the some one else was—Armstrong! What a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>stupid fool I’ve been!” Emory rose and walked to +the window. Suddenly he turned. “Does Helen know +this?”</p> + +<p>“Without a doubt.”</p> + +<p>“Then why does she not put a stop to it?”</p> + +<p>“Now you have at length arrived at my standpoint,” +replied Uncle Peabody, with satisfaction. “Helen knows +it, I am convinced. Miss Thayer, of course, knows her +own feelings. Armstrong is head over heels in this alleged +masterpiece of his, and I give him credit for appreciating +Miss Thayer’s sentiments toward him as little +as he does Helen’s sufferings. Except for this I +should not think of interfering, but under the circumstances +I feel that between us we may have a chance to +straighten things out before the principals know that +there is anything which needs straightening.”</p> + +<p>“That is a fair statement of the basis of the conspiracy,” +said Emory, returning to his seat; “but have +you worked out the details as carefully?”</p> + +<p>“No,” admitted Uncle Peabody, frankly. “That is +a more difficult proposition, and I doubt if we can formulate +any definite plan. It occurred to me that if we +joined forces we would stand a better chance of hitting +upon some expedient when the opportunity offered.”</p> + +<p>“Helen seems more or less reconciled, in spite of what +we know she feels,” said Emory, reflectively; “you +heard what she said to Armstrong last evening about +helping his work to a glorious success?”</p> + +<p>“She is trying desperately to be reconciled, and she +thinks she has concealed her real feelings,” replied Uncle +Peabody; “but she is eating her heart out all the time.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wish I thought I could help her some way.” +Emory rose and extended his hand. “I have never looked +upon myself as much of a success in matters like this,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +Mr. Cartwright, but there is nothing I would not do for +Helen—even to helping her to get a divorce!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody smiled as he took Emory’s hand and +held it firmly. “I suspect you will have to eliminate +yourself if you hope to accomplish anything. If I know +Helen at all, she will never take another chance if this +first venture turns out unfortunately. But let us hope +that all will right itself, and that we may be the direct +or indirect means of its so doing.”</p> + +<p>“Amen to that,” assented Emory, warmly. “I have +wanted Helen always, but I should be a brute if I did +not want her happiness first of all.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I had made no mistake,” replied Uncle +Peabody. “I rather pride myself on my skill in reading +human nature, and I should have been disappointed in +you had you failed me.”</p> + +<p class="r3">Uncle Peabody was late in returning to the villa, and +the family had already seated themselves at dinner.</p> + +<p>“We are all going for a moonlight ride,” announced +Armstrong as Mr. Cartwright apologized for his tardy +appearance, “and we felt sure you would soon be here. +Did you ever see such a perfect evening?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody resolved to try an experiment. “May +I venture to suggest an amendment?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“What improvement can you possibly make on my +plan?” Armstrong was incredulous.</p> + +<p>“Simply that Miss Thayer and I give you and Helen +a chance to enjoy the ride by yourselves, after the style +of true honeymooners.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s face flushed with pleasure, but Armstrong resented +any change in his original arrangement.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “Helen and I are not so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +sentimental, I trust, as to wish to keep you and Miss +Thayer from enjoying the ride with us on such a night +as this.”</p> + +<p>“I think Mr. Cartwright’s amendment an excellent +one,” said Inez. “It will be much better for you and +Helen to go by yourselves.”</p> + +<p>“Now you have broken up the whole party!” Armstrong +turned petulantly on Uncle Peabody. “Miss +Thayer has been working all the afternoon in the library, +and needs the refreshment of the air even more than +Helen.”</p> + +<p>“If Miss Thayer will permit,” replied Uncle Peabody, +maintaining his ground stoutly, “I will do my best +to make her evening an agreeable one.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong was not appeased, but could hardly do +other than accept the situation. After seeing the car +depart from the court-yard, Uncle Peabody and Miss +Thayer strolled out to the garden, where he arranged +their chairs so that they might gain the choicest view of +the moon-illumined city and the winding river, silver in +the soft, pale light.</p> + +<p>“I have kept you from an interesting experience,” +Uncle Peabody began, “but I know how much it will +mean to Helen to have her husband all to herself. You +understand, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“I do understand, perfectly,” replied Inez, heartily. +“I am only ashamed that I did not think of it myself; +but it is difficult to oppose Mr. Armstrong in anything +he has his heart set on, and I confess that I do not +possess your courage.”</p> + +<p>“I doubt if I should have been so courageous had I +realized how disagreeable he would be. Armstrong has +changed much in the few weeks I have known him.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody made his assertion boldly, and then +waited for a response. Inez looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>“I think it is hard for any one to understand Mr. +Armstrong without seeing him at his work. He has +changed, as you say, but it is a change which no one—least +of all himself—could prevent.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody expected a defence—that was but natural.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I quite follow you,” he said, wishing +to draw her out. “Would you mind telling me more +about the work, and what there is in it to affect him in +this way?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could make it clear to you, for unless you +understand it you will do him a great injustice.” Inez +again keyed herself up to her self-appointed task. +“Helen asked me the same question last evening, and +I realized while talking with her how poorly fitted I +myself am to attempt any explanation.”</p> + +<p>The girl paused. She knew that her companion would +analyze what she said much more thoroughly than Helen +had done.</p> + +<p>“Were you ever under an hypnotic influence?” she +asked, suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Uncle Peabody, calmly. “But you +don’t mean to say that this has happened to Jack?”</p> + +<p>“Yes and no,” Inez continued. “If I believed in reincarnation +I should say without hesitation that Mr. +Armstrong was living over again, here in Florence, an +existence which he had previously experienced centuries +ago. As I don’t believe in this, I can simply say that +there is a something which comes from an intimate contact +with these master-spirits of the past which is so compelling +that it takes one out of the present and assumes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +complete control over him. While we are at the library +all else is forgotten. I work there beside him hour after +hour, yet he seems entirely unconscious of my presence +except to the extent to which it assists his own efforts. +All personality is absolutely obliterated. I understand +it, because to a lesser degree I have felt it myself. When +we leave the library he becomes more like himself again; +but as he gets deeper into his work, his absorption is +greater, and for that reason alone, I believe, he is less +mindful of the usual every-day conventions. I wish I +could make it clear to you.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody did not reply at once. What Inez had +said gave him a new viewpoint both of Armstrong and +of her.</p> + +<p>“How long do you think this will continue?” he asked +at length.</p> + +<p>“Until his work is finished.”</p> + +<p>“And when will that be?”</p> + +<p>“Another month, at least.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was again silent, weighing the situation +from the present standpoint. “What is to become +of Helen in the mean time?” he asked, abruptly.</p> + +<p>Miss Thayer had anticipated this question. “Helen +understands the situation perfectly,” she said, confidently. +“She has talked it over with him and with me. It is +a sacrifice on her part to be separated from her husband, +especially at this time, but it is one which she is willing +to accept for her husband’s sake.”</p> + +<p>“Would you be willing to accept it were the conditions +reversed?”</p> + +<p>Inez flushed, but stood her ground bravely. “Perhaps +not,” she admitted; “but Helen is a stronger +woman than I.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She does not think so.”</p> + +<p>“Helen is a much stronger woman than she herself +realizes.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was thoughtful. “Let me ask you +one more question. Do you think that this spell, or influence, +or whatever you may call it, in any way affects +Armstrong’s affection for his wife?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure that it does not,” replied Inez, with decision. +“His devotion to Helen must be even stronger, +because he can but appreciate the splendid generosity +she is showing.”</p> + +<p>“He certainly adopts curious methods of demonstrating +it.”</p> + +<p>“But consider the influences he is under!” Inez urged.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody admired the girl’s handling of the catechising +he had given her. He looked steadily into her +face before replying.</p> + +<p>“You are a noble champion, Miss Thayer,” he said, +at length.</p> + +<p>“That is because I have faith in the cause,” responded +Inez, smiling. “I have been brought up to believe that +every married woman must at some time in her life make +a supreme sacrifice for her husband. I only hope that +when my turn comes the sacrifice may be made for so +good a cause.”</p> + +<p>“This is another version of the chastening of the +spirit,” added Uncle Peabody; “but I am thinking of a +certain spirit which received so much chastening that it +never revived. I sincerely trust that history may not +repeat itself.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XIV</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Uncle Peabody was entirely right when he +stated that Armstrong had become a changed man +since he first came to Florence; Miss Thayer was +right when she attributed this change to the associations +into which he had thrown himself—yet both were wrong +in thinking him unconscious of his own altered condition. +As he told Helen, he had ever felt some irresistible influence +drawing him back to Florence, even while engrossed +in the duties of his profession. Just what the +craving was he could not have explained even to himself. +What he should find in Florence had taken no definite +form in his mind, yet the longing possessed him in spite +of all he could do to reason with himself against it.</p> + +<p>After his arrival in Florence, even, it was not until +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> suggested the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> letters that he formulated +any plan to gratify his long-anticipated expectations. +His arguments with himself had prepared him +for a disappointment. It had been a boyish fancy, he +said, inwardly; he had felt the influences of his environment +simply because he had been young and impressionable, +and it was quite impossible that he should +now, man-grown, prove susceptible to anything so inexplicable +as what he had felt in his earlier days.</p> + +<p>Then came the experience with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> and Miss +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>Thayer. She was a woman, truly, and subject to a +woman’s physical frailties, yet she was intellectually +strong, and could not so have yielded to anything but +a controlling power. Here, then, was a second personality +affected in a like manner as himself by the same +influences. He did not try to explain it; he accepted +it as an evidence that this influence, whatever it was, +existed and made itself manifest. From that moment +he merged his own individuality into those to whom +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> with gentle suasion introduced him. The librarian +incited him by his own enthusiasm, and then directed +him along the paths which he himself so loved to tread.</p> + +<p>But <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> did not foresee the extremes to which his +pupil’s devotion would carry him. Day by day Armstrong +felt himself becoming more and more separated +from all about him, and more and more amalgamated +with those forces which had preceded him. The society +of any save those who acted and thought as he did failed +to appeal to him. His affection for Helen suffered no +change, except that she became less necessary to him. +As the work progressed the intervals away from the library +seemed longer, and he found it more difficult to +enter into the life about him. Then came an irritability, +entirely foreign to his nature, which he could not curb.</p> + +<p>Yet through it all he was entirely conscious of what +was happening. He compared himself more than once +to a man in a trance, painfully alive to all the preparations +going on about him for his own entombment, yet +unable to cry out and put a stop to it all. He wished +that Helen would object to his absences and force him +to become a part of her life again. He wished that +Miss Thayer would tire of the work and leave him alone +in it. In contemplating either event he suffered at the +mere thought of what such an interruption would mean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +to him, he knew that he would interpose strenuous objections—yet +in a way he longed for the break to come.</p> + +<p>Armstrong had been in one of these inexplicably irritable +moods when Uncle Peabody crossed him in his +plan for the moonlight ride to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Miniato</span>. As a matter +of fact, it was only because Miss Thayer had complained +of a headache as they left the library that the +idea of a ride had occurred to him at all; and to have +Mr. Cartwright calmly propose that she drop out of the +planned excursion struck him as a distinct intrusion upon +his own prerogatives. The automobile fever was out of +his blood now; the motor-car had become to him merely a +convenience, and no longer an exhilaration. It was quite +inevitable that Miss Thayer should acquiesce in Uncle +Peabody’s suggestion—in fact, she could do nothing else; +yet at the library she accepted even his slightest suggestion +without question, and Armstrong preferred this +latter responsive attitude. All in all, he would have been +glad to find some excuse for giving up the ride altogether; +but none offered itself, so, with every movement +an obvious protest, he had helped Helen into the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tonneau</span> +and stepped in after her.</p> + +<p>Helen was hardly in a happier frame of mind, yet she +found herself so eager for this time alone with her husband +that she raised none of the obstacles which she +would have done a month earlier. It was a perfect +June evening, with the air cooled enough by the light +wind to make the breeze raised by the speed of the +car agreeable to the face. The moon was just high +enough to cause deep shadows to fall across the roadway +and merge into fantastic shapes as the machine approached +and passed over them. The peasants were out-of-doors, +and expressed their contentment by snatches of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +song, rendered in the rich, melodious voices which are the +natural heritage of this light-hearted people. The toil +of the day was over, and they were entering into a well-earned +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">riposo</i> before the duties of the next sunrise claimed +their strength.</p> + +<p>“How peaceful this is!” Helen exclaimed, turning to +her husband. The breeze had blown back the lace scarf +from her head, and the moon fell full upon her luxuriant +hair, lighting her upturned face. “All nature is at rest +and peace, and the people reflect the contentment of the +land.”</p> + +<p>“Your uncle is becoming very dictatorial,” replied +Armstrong, quite at variance with her mood.</p> + +<p>“Why, Jack!”</p> + +<p>Helen was mildly reproachful, yet she instinctively felt +the necessity of being cautious. Perhaps she could make +him forget his resentment.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Peabody only meant to give us an opportunity +to be by ourselves. We have had so few.”</p> + +<p>“He should have understood that I had some good +reason for planning matters just as I did or I should +not have done it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you regret being alone with me?”</p> + +<p>Helen struggled to keep the tears out of her voice.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be absurd, Helen,” replied Armstrong, impatiently. +“That is not the point at all. Miss Thayer +is tired and needed this relaxation. Mr. Cartwright had +no right to interfere.”</p> + +<p>There was a long silence, during which Armstrong +relapsed into a profound taciturnity, while Helen found +it hard to know what tack to take. She glanced occasionally +at her husband, but could gain no inspiration +from his grim, set features.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Tell me, Jack,” she said, at length, “is it not possible +for you to pursue your work at the library without +having it make you so indifferent to everything else?”</p> + +<p>He shifted his position uneasily. “I am not indifferent +to everything else. The fact that I proposed this +ride is an evidence of that.”</p> + +<p>“Has something happened to make my companionship +distasteful to you?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong became more and more irritated. “I don’t +see why you are so possessed to make me uncomfortable, +Helen. But I understand what you are driving at.”</p> + +<p>“What am I driving at?” she asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>“You are taking this method to force me to put an +end to my work.”</p> + +<p>Helen winced. “Is that fair, Jack? What have I +said to you every time the subject has been mentioned?”</p> + +<p>“You have told me to go ahead, and then you have +shown quite plainly by every action that you did not +mean it.”</p> + +<p>“Jack Armstrong!” She was indignant at his gross +injustice.</p> + +<p>“What have I said each time the subject has come +up?” continued Armstrong. “You have had every opportunity +to have your own way in this as in all other +matters. I repeat it now—is it your wish that I stop my +work? Say but the word and I will never enter that +library again.”</p> + +<p>Helen was hurt through and through. To what avail +was her sacrifice if it be so little understood, so little +appreciated?</p> + +<p>“I don’t wish to be misunderstood in this,” added +Armstrong, as if in answer to her thoughts. “I quite +realize that I have asked much of you who can understand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +so little of what my book means to me. I have +been entirely frank, and have accepted from you the +time which rightfully belongs to you in the spirit, as I +supposed, in which you gave it to me. If you did not +mean what you said, you have but to tell me so and it +shall be exactly as you wish.”</p> + +<p>“I have meant every word I have said, Jack,” replied +Helen, in a low, strained voice. “I have been glad +to contribute in the only way I could to anything which +means so much to you. I simply ask you now whether +it is necessary for this absorption to include all of yourself +even when you are away from it. I did not suppose +that this was essential.”</p> + +<p>“You are exaggerating the situation out of all proportion.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I were, Jack.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s voice had a tired note in it which Armstrong +could not fail to perceive. He was amazed by his own +apathy. Why did it mean so little to him? Why did he +sit there beside her as if he had not noticed it when in +reality he felt the pain as keenly as she did? He turned +and looked at her for the first time since they had started. +Helen gave no sign that she was conscious of his scrutiny, +lying back with her cheek resting upon her hand, her +eyes closed, her lips quivering now and then in spite of +her supreme effort to control herself. Always, before, +Armstrong would have folded her in his arms and brushed +away the heart-pains, real or imaginary as they might +have been. Now he sat watching her suffer without making +any effort to relieve her.</p> + +<p>He despised himself for his attitude. What wretched +thing had come between him and this girl whom he +had idolized, and prevented him from extending even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +the common sympathy which belonged to any one who +needed it? What malevolent power forced him to be +the cause of this sorrow and yet forbade him the privilege +of assuaging it? This was not the lesson learned +from the humanists. Why should not he be able to give +out to those around him the reflection of that true happiness +which their work first taught the world?</p> + +<p>Helen opened her eyes suddenly and looked full into +his. Startled at the expression on his face, she sat +upright, keenly anxious and forgetful of her own +troubles.</p> + +<p>“Jack dear,” she cried, “you are not well! You are +unhappy, too! Tell me what it all means, and let us +understand it together!”</p> + +<p>Her voice brought back the old condition. His eyes +lowered and he withdrew his hand from Helen’s impulsive +grasp. With a heart heavy for the explanation which +lay close at hand, his voice refused to obey.</p> + +<p>“I am perfectly well, Helen,” he replied. “Why +should you think me otherwise?”</p> + +<p>The reaction was great, yet Helen succeeded in retaining +her control. While conscious, during the weeks past, +of the change in her husband’s bearing toward her, she +was unprepared for his present attitude. Yet the look +in his face when she had surprised him by opening her +eyes was the old expression by which in the past she had +known that something had touched him deeply—but it +was intensified beyond anything she had ever seen. It +had always been her privilege to comfort him under these +conditions, and instinctively her heart sprang forward +to meet his. Then she saw the expression change and +she grew cold with apprehension.</p> + +<p>“Ask Alfonse to turn back, please,” she begged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +“The air is getting chilly and I think I would rather +be home.”</p> + +<p>In response to her desire the chauffeur turned the car, +and the ride back to the villa was accomplished in silence. +Helen’s thoughts ran rampant, but further conversation +was impossible. Her pain was now tempered by her anxiety. +Jack was not well, in spite of his disclaimers. His +close application to his work in the poorly ventilated library +had undoubtedly affected him, and this was the explanation +of his otherwise inexplicable attitude toward +her. It was with positive relief that she discovered any +explanation, and as she thought things over this relief +lightened the burden she had been carrying all these +weeks more than anything which had happened since the +cloud began to gather. In some way she must plan to +relieve the pressure and bring her husband back to her +and to himself again.</p> + +<p>Inez and Uncle Peabody met them at the doorway.</p> + +<p>“The ride has done you good,” said the latter, giving +his hand to Helen and noting the light in the girl’s eyes +as they walked toward the hall.</p> + +<p>“I have left my scarf in the car,” said Helen, turning +back so quickly that Mr. Cartwright had no opportunity +to offer his services.</p> + +<p>Armstrong and Inez were standing together on the +step, and as Helen approached she could not help overhearing +her husband’s reply to Miss Thayer’s inquiring +looks.</p> + +<p>“You are the only one who understands me,” Armstrong +was saying—“you are the only one!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XV</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The next afternoon was a warm one, and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> +searched for some little time before she discovered +Uncle Peabody half concealed within a natural +arbor formed by the falling branches of an ancient +tree. Here, in the cooling shade, he was reading over +a budget of letters just received from America. Emory +followed close behind the maid, and laughed heartily at +Mr. Cartwright’s jump of startled surprise when <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> +broke into his absorption with the announcement +of “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Signor Emori</span>.”</p> + +<p>“Hello, Emory!” he cried, looking up genially from +the letter in his hand. “I was thousands of miles away, +and two words from the lips of the gentle serving-maid +brought me back to Florence. Marconigrams are nothing +compared with the marvellous exhibition you have +just witnessed.”</p> + +<p>“It is a shame to interrupt you,” Emory apologized. +“I came up early hoping to have a little chat with you +before Professor Tesso and tea-time arrived.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t apologize, I beg of you,” protested Uncle +Peabody, gathering up his letters and making room for +Emory to sit beside him. “I was just on the point of returning, +anyway, and you have saved me the necessity of +packing up. In fact, you are very welcome.”</p> + +<p>“I judge your news is of an agreeable nature?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>Emory saw that Uncle Peabody was eager to be questioned.</p> + +<p>“Things are advancing famously,” replied Mr. Cartwright, +enthusiastically. “These letters are from America, +and report the fullest success attending the experiments +there with which I am so vitally concerned. But +what are you carrying so carefully at arm’s-length?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody peered into the little wicker cage +Emory was holding.</p> + +<p>“Ah, a <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">grillo!</i>” he said. “Then to-day must be +Ascension Day and the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Festa dei Grilli</i>. I had forgotten +the date.”</p> + +<p>“So that explains why they are selling these little +cages with crickets inside of them all over the city. The +old woman I bought this of told me it was a token of +good luck, so I brought it to Helen.”</p> + +<p>“She will be interested in it,” replied Uncle Peabody. +“The little <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">grillo</i> brought luck once upon a time, if the +legend be true, and it may do so again.”</p> + +<p>“Is this <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Festa dei Grilli</i>, as you call it, an annual +festival?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and as firmly established as the Feast of the +Dove on Easter eve. The story goes that an attempt +was once made upon the life of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo de’ Medici</span> in +his own garden by the familiar means of a goblet of +poisoned wine. As the would-be assassin handed the +goblet to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lorenzo</span> a cricket alighted on the surface of +the wine and immediately expired. Thus, as in modern +melodrama, the villain was foiled. Since then, a Florentine +would harm a human being as soon as he would a +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">grillo</i>. Each year these cages are taken into the homes, +and as long as the little crickets can be kept alive +good luck attends the household.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Speaking of conspiracies,” remarked Emory, who +lost no time in finding an opening, “how advances +our present one? I have been thinking of nothing else +since our talk about Helen.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody rose and glanced around the garden +from his point of vantage. “Careful!” he said, drawing +back. “Helen is coming, and I can only say that +we must move very cautiously—even more so than I supposed. +I will tell you more later.”</p> + +<p>“Here we are, Helen,” he answered, in response to his +niece’s call, and both men advanced to meet her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you have found my ‘snuggery’!” cried Helen, +seeing them emerge from the arbor. “I intended to keep +that entirely for myself, but I will be generous and share +it with you.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Emory has brought you a talisman,” said Uncle +Peabody, pointing to the wicker cage. “Perhaps you +will permit this to appease your displeasure.”</p> + +<p>Helen examined with interest the cage Emory placed +in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Why, it is a cricket!” she exclaimed, as she discovered +the occupant beneath the green leaves.</p> + +<p>The story of the origin of the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">festa</i> was retold and the +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">grillo</i> placed under her special protection.</p> + +<p>“It is an emblem of good luck, Helen,” added Emory—“like +the swastika, only a great deal less commonplace.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Phil,” replied Helen. Then she looked +up at him suddenly. “Why did you bring it to me?” +she asked, suspiciously. “Do you think I need it?”</p> + +<p>“I think we all need all the good luck we can get,” +replied Emory, guardedly.</p> + +<p>“Tesso is late,” remarked Uncle Peabody, opportunely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +looking at his watch. “He will be greatly interested +in the reports of these American experiments.”</p> + +<p>Another half-hour passed by before the professor from +Turin arrived. Helen strolled about the garden with +Emory, pointing out the unusual flowers and shrubs, +while Uncle Peabody collected his letters and arranged +them in proper sequence. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> brought out the tea-table +and laid everything in readiness, returning to the +house just in time to usher the dignified figure into the +hall.</p> + +<p>“I hope I have not disarranged your plans,” apologized +the professor, pleased with the cordiality of his reception. +“I had a little experience which delayed me.”</p> + +<p>“My uncle is so anxious to tell you of some good tidings, +professor, that he has almost become impatient,” +replied Helen, smiling. “You observe that I say ‘almost,’ +do you not?”</p> + +<p>“It would never do for him to become impatient, would +it?” replied Tesso, turning to his friend—“you the +disciple of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cornaro</span> and the example to us all! But I +myself am weaker—I admit my impatience.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody and Emory drew up the chairs, and +Tesso seated himself next to Mr. Cartwright with obvious +expectancy.</p> + +<p>“You recall the results of my own experiments in +attempting to show increased muscular and mental endurance +as a result of eating in right manner what the +appetite selects instead of eating in wrong manner what +the doctors advise?” began Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“And incidentally demonstrating that the existing +standard of minimum nutrition for man was three times +too large?” queried Tesso.</p> + +<p>“Yes. You all were very generous, but I know you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +attributed the results in a measure to my own personal +peculiarities.”</p> + +<p>“You are right to a certain extent,” admitted Tesso, +“yet, so far as the experiment went, it proved that your +theory was correct.”</p> + +<p>“Now I have further evidence to add which is overwhelming,” +continued Uncle Peabody, triumphantly. +“For the last six months experiments have been in +progress in America, taking as subjects groups of men +in different walks of life—college professors, athletes, +and soldiers. To-day I have received a report of the +results. In every instance, on an intake of less than the +recognized minimum standard, the subjects improved in +physical condition and increased their strength efficiency +from twenty-five to one hundred per cent. Think of +that, Tesso—from twenty-five to one hundred per +cent.!”</p> + +<p>“I congratulate you heartily, my dear friend,” replied +the professor, warmly. “The effects of this will be most +far-reaching. I foresaw that you might demonstrate a +new minimum, but I had not expected that an increased +efficiency would accompany it.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would introduce this discovery of yours +to the Harvard football team,” remarked Emory, feelingly. +“Perhaps it would result in a few more victories +on the right side.”</p> + +<p>“It certainly would help matters,” assented Uncle +Peabody, with confidence. “All this so-called training +is necessary only because of the abuse which the average +man’s stomach suffers from its owner. My theory is that +any man, college athlete or otherwise, can keep in perfect +condition all the time, simply by following a few easy +rules and by knowing how to take care of himself. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +is just as important to be in training for his every-day +life as for an athletic contest.”</p> + +<p>“How did the experiments result with the athletes?” +Emory inquired.</p> + +<p>“These records are the most interesting of all,” replied +Uncle Peabody, referring to his letter. “This +group included track athletes, football players, the intercollegiate +all-around champion, and several others—all +at full training. They had already increased their +strength and endurance efficiency at least twenty-five +per cent during the training period before taking up +the new system. In four months, eating whatever they +craved, but using only the amount demanded by their +appetites and giving it careful treatment in the mouth, +these athletes reduced the amount of their food from one-third +to one-half, and increased their strength and endurance +records from twenty-five to one hundred per +cent.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to feel pretty well satisfied with that,” +said Emory.</p> + +<p>“I am satisfied,” replied Uncle Peabody, “as far as +it goes, but I hope for far more important results than +these.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed?” queried Professor Tesso. “I shared the +thought expressed by Mr. Emory that your ambition +ought now to be satisfied.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was silent for a moment. “I wonder +if I dare tell you what my whole scheme really is,” he +said, at length.</p> + +<p>“You can’t startle me any more than you did with +your original proposition three years ago,” encouraged +the professor, smiling. “At that time I could but consider +you a physiological heretic.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Tesso,” said Uncle Peabody, deliberately, “the results +of these experiments confirm me absolutely that I +am on the right track. These revelations on the subject +of nutrition are but the spokes of the great movement I +have at heart—or perhaps, more properly speaking, they +are the hub into which the spokes are being fitted. What +I really hope and expect to do is to put education on a +physiological basis, and to demonstrate that it is possible +to cultivate progressive efficiency—that a man of sixty +ought to be more powerful, physically and intellectually, +than a man of forty. I can see no reason, logically, for +one to retrograde as rapidly as men do now, but this depends +upon his knowing how to run the human engine +intelligently and economically and thus keeping it always +in repair.”</p> + +<p>“You astonish me, truly,” said Tesso, thoughtfully, +“yet I can advance no argument except faulty human +experience to refute your theory. In fact, you yourself +are a living demonstration of its truth.”</p> + +<p>“Then there would be no old age?” queried Helen.</p> + +<p>“There would be age just the same,” replied Uncle +Peabody, “but it would be ripe and natural age, with +only such infirmities as come from accident; and less of +these, since disease would find fewer opportunities to +fasten itself upon its victims. If all the world knew what +some know the death-rate could be cut in two, the average +of human efficiency doubled, and the cost of necessary +sustenance halved.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Cartwright,” said Professor Tesso, impressively, +“if you succeed in carrying through this great reform +of yours, even in part, you will be the greatest +benefactor of mankind the world has known.”</p> + +<p>“It is too large a contract to be carried through by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +any single one, but my confidence in the final outcome is +based on the intelligent interest which others are taking +in my work. I am glad you do not think the idea chimerical. +It encourages me to keep at it with tireless application.”</p> + +<p>“Dare I interrupt with so prosaic a suggestion as a +cup of tea?” asked Helen, as there came a lull in the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Cartwright has given me so much to think about +that a little relaxation will be grateful,” replied the professor. +“Perhaps you would be interested if I gave +you an account of the experience which delayed me this +afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“By all means,” said Helen, as she prepared the tea. +“I am sure it was an interesting one.”</p> + +<p>“You may not know that I have a great love for the +romantic,” confessed Professor Tesso. “It seems a far +cry from my every-day life, but sometime I mean to prepare +an essay upon the subject of the relation between +science and romance. In fact, I believe them to be very +closely allied.”</p> + +<p>“What a clever idea!” cried Helen. “If you ever +prove that to be true it will explain a lot of things.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can do it sometime,” continued the scientist, +complacently, “and in the mean time I gratify +my whim by taking observations whenever the opportunity +offers. To-day I had a most charming illustration, +and I became so much interested that it made me +late in coming to you.”</p> + +<p>“You certainly have an admirable excuse,” assented +his hostess.</p> + +<p>“I suspect that the objects of my observation are +fellow-patriots of yours, but I am not certain. The man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +was a strong, fine-looking fellow with ability and determination +written clearly in his face. He was evidently +a deep student—perhaps a professor in some one of +your American colleges. His companion, the heroine of +my story, was a small woman, but so intense! I think +it was her intensity which first attracted my attention.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure they could not have been Americans, professor,” +interrupted Helen. “No American woman +would display her emotion like that, I am sure.—Do +you take cream, and how many lumps of sugar, please?”</p> + +<p>“You may be right, of course,” continued Tesso, giving +her the necessary information. “In fact, my whole +story is based upon supposition. However, as they sat +there together, first he would say something to her, and +they would look into each other’s faces, and then she +would say something to him, and the operation would +be repeated. They spoke little, but the silent communion +of their hearts as they looked at each other spoke more +eloquently than words. It was beautiful to behold. +‘There,’ I said to myself, ‘is a perfect union of well-mated +souls. What a pity that they must ever go out +into the world and run the risk of having something +commonplace come between them and their devotion!’”</p> + +<p>“Splendid!” cried Helen. “How I wish I might have +been with you!”</p> + +<p>“The whole episode could not have failed to interest +you as it did me.” The professor was ingenuously sincere +in his narrative. “In these days one so seldom sees +husbands and wives properly matched up. Of course, it +is quite possible that when this pair I speak of are actually +married they will quarrel like cats and dogs. But +for the present their devotion was so natural, so untainted +by the world’s actualities, that I confess myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +guilty of having deliberately watched them far beyond +the bounds of common decency.”</p> + +<p>“You should certainly pursue your investigations +further,” said Uncle Peabody. “After having discovered +psychological subjects in a man and a woman perfectly +adapted to each other, it would be a pity not to +continue your researches that their perfections might be +recorded for the benefit of others less fortunate.”</p> + +<p>“Have you no idea who they were?” asked Emory.</p> + +<p>“Not the slightest. I might have found out, as my +friend, whom I went to see, must know them; but I was +aghast when I discovered the hour, and ran away without +so much as leaving my name.”</p> + +<p>“Where did all this happen?” asked Helen.</p> + +<p>“At the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Laurenziana</span>,” replied Tesso. “I went to +call on my old friend <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>.” The professor laughed +guiltily. “I hope he never learns the reason why I +failed to keep my appointment!”</p> + +<p>Helen placed her cup abruptly upon the table and +stared stonily at Tesso. Uncle Peabody and Emory +glanced quickly at each other in absolute helplessness. +The professor, however, failed to notice the effect of his +words upon his auditors; he was too much amused by the +mental picture of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> waiting for him while he, only +a few feet away from the librarian’s study, was gratifying +his love for the romantic.</p> + +<p>“May I join you?” cried a voice behind Helen, as +Inez Thayer approached unnoticed in the dim light. +“Mr. Armstrong went down to the station to send a +cable, so I came back alone.”</p> + +<p>“Inez—Miss Thayer, let me present Professor Tesso,” +said Helen, mechanically.</p> + +<p>The professor held out his hand and stepped toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +her. As the features of her face became clear a great +joy overwhelmed him.</p> + +<p>“My heroine!” he cried, turning to the others. “This +is the heroine of my story! Now, my dear Mr. Cartwright, +I can record these perfections for the benefit of +others less fortunate!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XVI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>What happened after Inez arrived, how she +herself had acted, and how Professor Tesso’s +departure had been accomplished remained a +blank to Helen. All that was clear to her was the pain—the +sharp, aching pain—which came to her with a realization +of the true significance of the story Tesso told. +The crisis was coming fast, Helen was conscious of that; +she even wondered if it was not at hand already.</p> + +<p>Throughout the long, sleepless night Helen reviewed +the events of the brief months of her married life. She +even began earlier than that, and recalled those days in +Boston when Jack Armstrong had appeared before her +first as an acquaintance, then as a friend—sympathetic, +helpful, congenial—and finally as a suitor for her hand. +As she looked back now the period of friendship was recalled +with the greatest happiness. Perhaps this was because +he had then been more thoughtful of her and less +masterful, perhaps it was because the friendship entailed +less responsibility—she could not tell. Even during their +engagement she had laughed at those moods which she +had not understood, and he had accepted her attitude +good-naturedly and become himself again. Now she +wondered how she had dared to laugh at him!</p> + +<p>Then her mind dwelt upon the ocean voyage—those +days of cloudless happiness, of unalloyed joy. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +visit in Paris, where the sights, although not new, seemed +so different because of the companionship of her husband. +The trip to Florence, the first glimpse of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa +Godilombra</span>—which was to be their earliest home together—all +came back to her with vivid distinctness. +And the day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>—that day when her husband +had become a boy again, and had shown her a side of his +nature so unreserved, so natural that she had felt a new +world opening before her, a new happiness, the like of +which she had never known.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jack!” she cried, aloud, “why could not that +day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span> have lasted forever!”</p> + +<p>Still the panorama of reminiscence continued. That +evening when De Peyster, all unconsciously, repeated to +her those words of Inez’ which first altered the aspect of +her entire world was clearly recalled. Perhaps she might +have prevented the present crisis had she recognized the +danger then and acted upon the information she had unintentionally +received. Perhaps if she had in some way +interfered with the work at the library, and thus prevented +the constant companionship of her husband and +Inez, the trouble might have been averted. But she +would have despised herself had she done that. If she +could hold her husband’s love only by preventing him +from meeting other women her happiness had indeed +never been secure.</p> + +<p>And she had tried to enter into his life, to understand +this phase of his nature which, after all her efforts, had +baffled her intentions. She had gone to the library with +him, expecting to apply herself to her self-appointed +task until she succeeded in satisfying even so exacting +a master as she knew her husband to be. He would have +been patient with her; he would have appreciated the love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +which prompted her efforts, and all would have been well. +But <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> had interfered. She could hear his voice now; +she could see the expression on his face as he spoke +the words, “By not interfering with this character-building, +you, his wife, will later reap rich returns.” +Helen laughed bitterly to herself. She was reaping +the rich returns now—rich in sorrow and pain and +suffering.</p> + +<p>Perhaps she could have forced the crisis to come when +Inez’ confession to De Peyster had been disclosed by +Emory. Jack’s conduct at that time had almost brought +Helen’s resentment to the breaking-point; but what Inez +had told her afterward had made her feel more in sympathy +with him, even though she understood him no better +than before. “Your husband is a god among them +all,” Inez had said; “you will be so proud of him—so +proud that he belongs to you.” She was proud of him, +but her pride could in no way make up to her for the +loss of his affection. In her mind’s eye she could see +him, with his masterpiece completed, receiving the world’s +plaudits, but entirely unmindful of her, his wife, who +had stood aside and made it possible for him to accomplish +it all. Oh, it was too cruel, too unfair! Helen +buried her head in the pillows and moaned piteously.</p> + +<p>She lived over again that one moment in the automobile, +that one look in her husband’s face which had +given her relief. It had, indeed, been a brief respite! +At that moment she felt that Jack’s love for her still +existed, strong and deathless, in the face of temporary +abstraction. With this certainty she could endure in +patience whatever sacrifices were necessary to win him +back to herself. But Jack’s words to Inez on the steps, +“You are the only one who understands me”—there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +could be no mistake there. It was to Inez and not to +her that he turned for understanding and for comfort.</p> + +<p>All through the day she had tried to deceive herself +into believing that even this was the result of some mental +illness from which Jack was suffering, but Tesso had +added just the necessary detail to destroy even the semblance +of comfort to which she had so tenaciously clung. +“A perfect union of well-mated souls,” the professor had +called them. “What a pity to have something commonplace +come between them and their devotion!” And she +was that “commonplace something”!</p> + +<p>At all events, the main point had been definitely settled. +For weeks she had known that Inez loved Jack; +now she felt sure that this affection must be reciprocated. +She should have known it sooner, she told herself. “I +have been such a coward,” she said, inwardly—“I could +not bear to know for a certainty what I feared to be +true.” Now the worst that could happen had happened. +Jack would in all probability be the last one to suggest +any break. He would keep on as at present with his book—perhaps +he might extend the work somewhat, in order +to be with Inez a little longer; but when this was completed +he would come back to her again, his obsession +would disappear, and outwardly there would be no +change. They would return to Boston and be received +by their friends with glad acclaim, and with congratulations +upon the happy months of the honey-moon passed +under such congenial conditions! Jack would be an exemplary +husband, she knew that. With the book completed +and away from the overpowering influences which +had controlled him in Florence he would again be to her, +perhaps, all he had ever been. But what an irony it +would be!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not for a moment did she accuse him of having married +her without believing that he loved her. Armstrong’s +sincerity was a characteristic which could never +be denied. He had not known Inez then. Any one +could see that he and Inez were meant for each other; +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> saw it and said so; Tesso saw it and said so; she +herself felt it without a question. Her marriage to Jack +had been a mistake, an awful mistake. If only he and +Inez had met earlier! Her own life was ruined, but was +there any reason why the tragedy should include the +others? If it would help matters Helen might be selfish +enough to let them share the pain, but as there was +nothing to be gained it would be worse than selfish. +Jack had no idea that she was aware of the true conditions. +He would oppose her if she attempted to take it +all into her own life, yet this was the only course to pursue +which could minimize the suffering.</p> + +<p>Helen shut her eyes, but sleep was still far distant. +The first agony had not run its course, and it would have +been a misdirected mercy to stem its flow. There was no +resentment in Helen’s heart, and at this she herself wondered. +Inez was not to blame for loving Jack—it was +the most natural thing in the world. She had tried her +best to keep the knowledge of her affection to herself, +and but for the double accident she might have succeeded. +Jack was not to blame. He himself had not +known the strength of the power which drew him back +to Florence, nor could he have foreseen how wholly it +would possess him when once he yielded himself to it. +He had not sought Inez; Helen herself had brought +them together. He had found her useful to him in his +work; he had found her agreeable as a friend; all beyond +that had been a natural growth which could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +and perhaps should not have been checked. The more +the pity of it!</p> + +<p>At first Helen felt that if Jack could return to his old +self inwardly it would be worth the struggle. Then +she realized that this could never be. The intellectual +strength of her husband had won Helen’s profoundest +admiration, even though it was beyond her understanding. +She longed to be able to enter into it and respond +to it as Inez did, yet she felt her limitations. But her +love had increased in its intensity by passing through +the fire. The man she knew now was infinitely stronger +and grander than ever before, and in the light of this +new development of character she questioned whether +her affection would not suffer a shock if Jack were to +become again the man she had known in Boston. This +new self was his real self, and the self which he must be +in order to express his own individuality. It was even +as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> had said—character-building had been in +process, bringing to the surface qualities which had lain +dormant perhaps for centuries; but—and here was where +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s wisdom had been at fault—this development had +not been for her but for another.</p> + +<p>The faint rays of dawn crept in through the lattice +windows of Helen’s room before she sank into a restless +sleep. A few hours later Armstrong softly entered the +room before leaving for the library and stood for several +moments looking at his wife’s face, in which the lines of +her struggle still left their mark. When he returned to +the hall he met Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“May I have a word with you?” Armstrong asked, +leading the way to the library.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“Helen is still asleep,” said Armstrong by way of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +preliminaries. “The girl is overdoing somehow, and she +acts very tired. As I looked at her just now she seemed +ten years older than when we left Boston. Don’t you +think she is taking on too many of these social functions?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody glanced at Armstrong to make sure +that he was quite sincere. “I am glad that you have +noticed it at last,” he replied, quietly. “I have wondered +that you did not perceive the change.”</p> + +<p>“I must speak to her about it.”</p> + +<p>“But you have not hit on the cause of the change +yet,” continued Uncle Peabody, suggestively.</p> + +<p>“What else can it be?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew you well enough to talk frankly with +you, Jack.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was bidding for an opening.</p> + +<p>“I suppose that means that I have done something +which has not met with your approval.”</p> + +<p>“That answers my question, Jack. I don’t know you +well enough, so I will refrain.”</p> + +<p>“Has it to do with Helen?” insisted Armstrong.</p> + +<p>“It has,” replied Uncle Peabody. “But what I have +to say is not intended as a reproach. I simply feel that +if you have not already discovered that Helen is a +very unhappy girl it is time some one called your +attention to it.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong was thoughtful. “Do you mean that +Helen is really unhappy, or simply upset over some +specific thing?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that she is suffering, day after day, without +relief.”</p> + +<p>“You must be wrong,” replied Armstrong, decisively. +“She was a little hurt over something I said to her night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +before last, and I mean to straighten that out; but if +there was anything beyond that, I should surely have +known of it.”</p> + +<p>“You are the last one she would speak to about it,” +Uncle Peabody said, gravely.</p> + +<p>“Why are you so mysterious? Perhaps you are referring +to my work at the library. Has Helen been talking +to you about that?” Armstrong demanded, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Helen has said nothing to me, and does not even +know that I have noticed anything,” said Uncle Peabody, +emphatically.</p> + +<p>“Which shows you how little there is to your fears,” +retorted Armstrong, relieved.</p> + +<p>“I have no wish to prove anything, Jack,” continued +Uncle Peabody. “The fact remains, whatever the cause, +that Helen is fast getting herself into a condition where +she will be an easy victim for this accursed Italian malarial +fever. I sound the warning note; I can do no more.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong was unconvinced. “I never looked upon +you as an alarmist before,” he replied, glancing at his +watch. “I am late for my work this morning, but when +I return I will question Helen carefully and arrive at the +root of the difficulty.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you succeed,” replied Uncle Peabody, feelingly.</p> + +<p class="r3">Helen came down-stairs in the afternoon and found the +villa deserted. Instinctively she sought the garden, walking +out upon the terrace, where she leaned against one +of the ancient pillars, her gaze extending to the familiar +view of the river and the city beyond. She thought of +the dramas which had been enacted within the walls of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +the weather-stained palaces whose roofs identified their +location. These had been more spectacular, and had won +their place in history, but she questioned whether they +could have been more tragical than the one she was now +passing through. Surely it was as easy, she told herself, +to meet intrigue and opposition, as to be confronted +with the necessity of decreeing one’s own sentence and +then carrying it into execution.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jack!—my husband!” her heart again cried out +in its pain. “Why did you come into my life, since I +never belonged in yours, only to give me a taste of what +might have been!”</p> + +<p>Her reveries were interrupted by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>’s announcement +that the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span> was at the door, in her +motor-car. Glad of any diversion, Helen hastened to +welcome her, and returned with her to the garden.</p> + +<p>“I am so glad to find you in,” the contessa remarked, +with evident sincerity, as they seated themselves in the +shade. “In the first place, I really wanted to see you, +and, in the second, my dear <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> is in his most aggravating +mood to-day, and we should have come to +blows if I had not run away.”</p> + +<p>“How unfortunate that your husband suffers so!” +Helen replied, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“It certainly is unfortunate for me.”</p> + +<p>“And for him, too, I imagine,” insisted Helen, smiling.</p> + +<p>The contessa was unwilling to yield the point. “I +claim all the sympathy,” she said, with finality. “When +a man has had sixty years of fun in getting the gout, he +has no right to complain.”</p> + +<p>“Sixty years—” began Helen, in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear,” replied the contessa, complacently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +“I belong to the second crop. He was a widower with a +title and position, and I had money; but I must admit +that we were both moderately disappointed. However, +marriage is always a disappointment, and I consider myself +fortunate that things are no worse.”</p> + +<p>Helen felt the color come to her face as the contessa’s +words recalled her own sorrow, which for the moment +she had forgotten. The freedom with which her guest +spoke of her personal affairs repelled her, yet there was a +subtle attraction which Helen could not help feeling.</p> + +<p>“You are very pessimistic on the subject of marriage,” +she ventured.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” the contessa insisted, calmly. “Husbands +are selfish brutes, all of them; but they are absolutely +necessary to give one respectability. Perhaps +your husband is an exception, but I doubt it. Where +is he now?”</p> + +<p>“He is at the library,” Helen faltered, resenting the +contessa’s question, but forced to an answer by the suddenness +with which it was put.</p> + +<p>“At the library?” repeated the contessa, interrogatively. +“That is where he was on the afternoon of the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Londi</span> reception. Is he there all the time?”</p> + +<p>“A good deal of the time,” admitted Helen. “He is +engaged upon an important literary work.”</p> + +<p>“In which he takes a great interest and you none at +all. There you have it—selfishness, the chief attribute +of man!”</p> + +<p>“It does look like it,” Helen answered, concluding +that she had better move in the line of the least resistance. +“But in this particular case I am very much +interested in my husband’s work, even though I am unable +to enter into it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That is not interest,” corrected the contessa—“it is +sacrifice; and that is woman’s chief attribute.”</p> + +<p>“I see you are determined to include my husband in +your general category.”</p> + +<p>“I must, because he is a man. But my reason for +doing this is to convince you that it is the thing to be +expected. Unless you learn that lesson early in your +married life, my dear, you will be miserably unhappy. +I am certain that the old Persian proverb, ‘Blessed is +he who expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed,’ +was written by a woman—and a married woman at +that.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s duties at the tea-table aided her to preserve +her composure, but the contessa’s matter-of-fact expressions +were not reassuring in the present crisis she was +passing through. She felt herself in no position to combat +her theories, yet not to do so seemed a tacit admission +of all which she strove to conceal.</p> + +<p>“I could not live with a man such as you describe,” +she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, you could!” The contessa laughed at +Helen’s innocence and inexperience. “That is the way +we all feel when we are first married; but we soon get +over it—unless there is another woman in the case; then +it is different.”</p> + +<p>“What do we do in that case?” asked Helen, looking +up at her guest with a smile. “You may as well prepare +me for any emergency.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” the contessa replied, seriously, resting +her elbow upon the little table and returning Helen’s +glance—“in that case we try to arouse our husband’s +jealousy; but we must do it discreetly, as they are not +so long-suffering as we.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why not leave one’s husband?”</p> + +<p>“You dear, simple little bride!” cried the contessa, indulgently—“and +let him have a clear field? What an +original idea! But how our conversation has run on!” +The contessa rose and held out her hand graciously. “I +really must be going now; but I wish you and Mr. Armstrong +would take tea with me—say day after to-morrow. +I want to see this exceptional husband of yours, +and if my dear <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> is not too impossible I will show +him off to you.”</p> + +<p>“I doubt if Mr. Armstrong will feel that he can spare +the time away from his book—” began Helen.</p> + +<p>“In that case, then, come alone. Perhaps we can have +all the better visit by ourselves. I shall expect you. +Good-bye!”</p> + +<p>Before Helen could make any further remonstrance +the contessa had vanished through the hall-door, and a +moment later the car could be heard moving out of the +court-yard. She again leaned against her favorite pillar, +trying to comprehend this new phase of life. Uncle +Peabody found her standing there a few moments later +when he returned from the city. Helen pulled herself +together when she saw him coming, even though she made +no attempt to change her position. Mr. Cartwright +longed to comfort her, but something in the girl’s face +told him that the time had not yet come. So he took +his place beside her, and, passing his arm about her +waist, gently drew her toward him. Helen accepted the +caress with the smile which she had learned to use to +conceal the ruffled surface of her heart.</p> + +<p>“The <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span> has just been here,” she observed.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Did you find her entertaining?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes; I think that just expresses it.”</p> + +<p>“And—worldly?”</p> + +<p>Helen laughed. “She is certainly worldly. Yet there +is something beneath it all which attracts me.”</p> + +<p>“She is a splendid example of a woman who takes the +world as she finds it,” Uncle Peabody continued, seriously. +“Most women consider their husbands as material +for idealizing. Then they rub their Aladdin’s lamp, set +a train of wishing in operation, and expect their selected +material to live up to the ideals. When the material +proves unworthy, they lose faith in everything instead of +letting their experience educate their ideals. The contessa +has risen above this.”</p> + +<p>“Yet, I judge, her husband has given her plenty of +opportunity to lose her faith,” Helen added.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Uncle Peabody acquiesced. He looked affectionately +at her, and fastened behind her ear a little +strand of hair which had become loose. Then he continued, +half-jocosely, “The men I know whom I would +marry if I were a woman are so precious few that I +would certainly be a bachelor maid.”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled at the expression on Uncle Peabody’s +face. “Is it not good to be here together?” she said, +simply. “Your visit has meant so much to me, and now +I have been considering a lot of plans which you must +help me to work out. I have been waiting for just the +right time, and now I believe it has come.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was genuinely surprised by Helen’s +manner as well as by her words.</p> + +<p>“How much longer are you going to stay in Florence, +Helen?” he asked, pointedly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t really know,” she replied, frankly. “Our +original plan was to leave early in July; but that is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +only about a month from now, and I presume Jack will +require a longer time to complete his work.”</p> + +<p>“He has not made any definite plans, then?”</p> + +<p>“No, and I hope we shall stay at least as long as that. +The things which I have in mind may require even more +time than I suspect.”</p> + +<p>“And these things are—”</p> + +<p>“You inquisitive old Uncle Peabody!” Helen took +his face between her hands as she kissed him affectionately. +“I will tell you all in good time, and you shall be +the first to know!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XVII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Helen debated with herself long and seriously regarding +the contessa’s invitation. As she had said +to Uncle Peabody, her new acquaintance both repelled +and attracted her. Here was a woman who had +undoubtedly passed through far more bitter experiences +than she herself would ever be called upon to endure, yet +was able to rise supremely above them and force from +the world that which she still considered to be her just +due. Helen could not help admiring her for this quality, +and she tried to draw from her example some lessons +which might be applicable to the present situation. At +first she thought of insisting that her husband accompany +her. She felt certain that he would not refuse her +if he really understood that she expected and wished it, +yet she knew without his telling her how distasteful it +would be to him. If they were planning to live in Florence, +it would, of course, be necessary for him to place +himself in evidence, as the contessa had said, for the “respectability” +of it; but as their life in Italy was so nearly +ended—as their life together was so nearly ended—she +felt that there was nothing to be gained in asking +him to make this sacrifice. So Helen decided to return +the contessa’s call alone.</p> + +<p>Alfonse was waiting for her in the motor-car when +Emory drove into the court-yard. Seeing the machine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +he alighted and stepped through the open door into the +hall, where he intercepted her a few moments later when +she came down-stairs.</p> + +<p>“So you are just going out?” he said, by way of +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Why, Phil—where did you come from?”</p> + +<p>“Out of that old picture there,” he replied, pointing +to the wall. “Don’t I look funny without my ruffles and +knee-breeches?”</p> + +<p>“Do be serious, Phil,” Helen laughed.</p> + +<p>“I am serious. How could I be otherwise when I see +you just going out when I have come all the way up +here to have a quiet little chat?”</p> + +<p>Helen was clearly disturbed. “This is really too +bad,” she said, trying to think of some plan out of it. +“I promised the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span> to take tea with her +this afternoon, or I would stay home.”</p> + +<p>“The <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span>!” exclaimed Emory. “That +simplifies everything.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how,” Helen remarked, frankly.</p> + +<p>“Why, you can take me with you. What could be +easier?”</p> + +<p>“That is true,” admitted Helen, meditatively. “Why +not?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see any ‘why not,’” Emory asserted.</p> + +<p>The contessa welcomed Helen with open arms. “But +this is not your husband!” she exclaimed, turning to +Emory before Helen had an opportunity to explain. “I +had the pleasure of meeting you at the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Londi</span> reception, +did I not?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Emory came to call just as I was starting out,” +Helen hastened to say, “and he begged so hard to be +allowed to see you again that I could not refuse him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>“So you could not pull your learned husband away +from his books?” the contessa queried, after smilingly +accepting Emory’s presence.</p> + +<p>“I did not try, contessa,” Helen answered, promptly. +“He has reached a crisis in his work, and I was unwilling +to suggest anything which might divert his mind.”</p> + +<p>“What an exemplary wife you are! If we all treated +our husbands with such consideration they would become +even more uncontrollable than at present. Don’t you +think so, Mr. Emory?”</p> + +<p>“The suggestion is so impossible that I can think of +no reply,” Emory answered. “Mrs. Armstrong is such +an unusual wife as to warrant considering her as an +isolated exception.”</p> + +<p>Emory spoke with such sincerity that the contessa +looked at him with renewed interest.</p> + +<p>“I knew that to be the case,” she said at length, “but +I am glad to hear you say it. One so seldom hears a +married woman championed so freely by a friend of the +opposite sex.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Armstrong needs no champion,” Emory hastened +to add, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, for Helen’s +sake, over the turn the conversation had taken. “But +why should I not be permitted to express my admiration +for you or for her just as I would for a beautiful painting +or any other creation of a lesser artist?”</p> + +<p>“Because ‘beautiful paintings’ do not have husbands,” +replied the contessa, sagely, smiling at Emory’s +compliment.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a name="fp192" id="fp192"></a> +<img src="images/fp192.jpg" width="342" height="500" alt="“BECAUSE ‘BEAUTIFUL PAINTINGS' DO NOT POSSESS +HUSBANDS,’ REPLIED THE CONTESSA, SAGELY" title="" /> +<span class="caption">“BECAUSE ‘BEAUTIFUL PAINTINGS’ DO NOT POSSESS +HUSBANDS,” REPLIED THE CONTESSA, SAGELY</span> +</div> + +<p>“Since we are speaking of husbands,” Helen interrupted, +thinking it time to make her hostess exchange +places with her, “you promised me that I should meet +yours this afternoon.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh no, my dear,” the contessa corrected. “I said +‘unless he was impossible,’ and that is just what he is +to-day. Be thankful that your husband’s infirmity takes +the form it does rather than the gout.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me something about your villa,” suggested +Helen, glancing around her. “All these places have +romantic histories, and I am sure that this is no exception.”</p> + +<p>“All one has to do in order to forget the romance +with which old Italian houses are invested is to live in +one,” the contessa replied. “As a matter of fact, they +contain more rheumatism than romance. This one is fairly +livable now, but I wish you could have seen it when +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> first brought me here as a bride! Words can’t +express it. An old-fashioned house-cleaning and some +good American dollars make the best antidote I know. +The first point of interest I was shown here was the room +in which the previous <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span> died. My ambitions +were along different lines, so I added some modern +improvements, much to the consternation of my husband +and the servants. And the present <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa +Morelli</span>, you may have observed, is still very much alive.”</p> + +<p>By the time the call came to an end Helen and Emory +had learned much regarding Italian life from an American +woman’s standpoint, but in the mean time the contessa’s +active brain had not been idle. The situation in +which she found her new friends puzzled her somewhat +and interested her more. She had discovered the indifferent +husband and the passive wife—two necessary elements +in every domestic drama. Emory answered well +enough for the admiring friend of the wife, so all that +was necessary was to find the second woman and the +<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">dramatis personæ</i> would be complete. This would explain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +the husband’s indifference and the wife’s passivity. +It was an interesting problem, and the contessa saw +definite possibilities in it.</p> + +<p>As Emory and Helen took their leave Phil suggested +that they run down to the library in the motor-car to +pick up Armstrong and Miss Thayer.</p> + +<p>“Miss Thayer?” queried the contessa.</p> + +<p>“My friend, whom you must meet,” Helen explained. +“She has been with us almost since our arrival, and is +assisting Mr. Armstrong in his literary work.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed the contessa, beaming as the completeness +of her intuition came to her. “How very interesting! +I shall look forward to meeting these two +other members of your family.”</p> + +<p>The machine reached the foot of the hill and slowed +down to pass through the city streets before either +Emory or Helen broke the silence, yet it was evident +that their minds found full employment. The call upon +the contessa left them both with an intangibly unpleasant +sensation.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry I went with you, Helen,” Emory remarked, +after the long pause.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry you did,” admitted Helen, frankly, his +words fitting in exactly with her own thoughts.</p> + +<p>“It is too bad that one can’t do or say the natural +thing without having it misunderstood. The contessa +is determined to find something upon which she may +seize as material for gossip.”</p> + +<p>“That is usually not difficult when one tries hard +enough,” Helen agreed; “especially when one is living +in such an atmosphere as she is.”</p> + +<p>“Jack will have to sacrifice himself temporarily or he +will leave you in an uncomfortable position.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>Emory spoke guardedly and watched the effect of his +words.</p> + +<p>“He would have come this afternoon if I had asked +him,” Helen asserted, confidently, “but his book is nearly +finished and he is not in a mood to be interrupted. I +don’t want anything to interfere with its completion.”</p> + +<p>“It will be a relief, though, to have it finished, won’t +it?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up quickly at Emory’s question and as +quickly dropped her eyes as they met his. “Why—yes,” +she admitted, slowly. “I shall be glad to have him +take a little rest. I am sure he has been overdoing.”</p> + +<p>The girl felt Emory’s questioning glance upon her, +and it added to her discomfiture.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think it is time to let me help you, +Helen?” he asked, pointedly. “You know perfectly +well that I feel toward you just as I always have. No”—he +stopped the restraining words upon her lips—“I +am going to say nothing which I ought not to say, nothing +which you ought not to hear. But I want you to be +happy, Helen, and sometimes a man can help. Don’t be +afraid to ask me; don’t let your pride stand between us. +You know that I shall take no advantage of anything +you tell me.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s lips quivered slightly as she listened, but her +voice was natural though restrained. “Something is +misleading you, Phil,” she answered, calmly. “Nothing +has happened to make it necessary for me to ask help +from any one. If there had I should be glad to have so +good a friend to fall back upon.”</p> + +<p>“You are deceiving no one but yourself, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>She turned quickly toward him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Every one knows how much you are suffering in +spite of your brave attempt to keep it to yourself. Why +won’t you let me help you, Helen?”</p> + +<p>“Who is ‘every one’?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Why—your uncle Peabody and I and—the contessa,” +stammered Emory.</p> + +<p>“You and Uncle Peabody think I am suffering?”</p> + +<p>“We know it!”</p> + +<p>Helen held her head very high in the air, and spoke +in a superior tone so obviously assumed as a cloak to +disguise her real feelings, that Emory regretted that he +had forced the subject upon her; but now it had gone +too far to draw back.</p> + +<p>“If you know that, perhaps you know the cause of it +as well?”</p> + +<p>“We do. Jack—”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” Helen commanded. The motor-car turned +into the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza San Lorenzo</span>. “If you have anything +to say about my husband,” she continued, “you had +better say it direct to him.”</p> + +<p>“May I?” cried Emory, leaning forward eagerly. +He looked at Helen steadily for a moment, like a runner +waiting for the pistol-shot to release him from his strained +position at “set.” The girl returned his look with +equal steadiness for only an instant before she read what +was in his mind. Armstrong and Inez were just coming +out through the cloister gates.</p> + +<p>“May I?” Emory repeated.</p> + +<p>“No!” Helen replied, quickly, sinking back against +the cushions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XVIII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Armstrong was most enthusiastic when he returned +late the next afternoon, and Miss Thayer’s +face reflected his own great satisfaction. The +book was beginning to round into completeness, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> +had placed upon it the stamp of his unqualified approval, +and the author himself had reason to feel well pleased +with the results of his tireless application. Helen watched +the two as they came out into the garden where she +and Uncle Peabody had been visiting. Yes, they were +meant for each other. Helen could see this more plainly +now even than before. Her husband had lost in +weight and in color since he began his work at the library, +but the slighter frame and paler face seemed more +in keeping with the man whom she now knew. Inez +had also changed. The individuality which Helen had +always considered a striking characteristic of her friend +while at school and later was now completely merged +into that of the man beside her. They thought alike, +talked alike, acted alike. That was what Jack preferred +and what he needed, Helen admitted, and she felt a certain +satisfaction that she was at least strong enough to +see and to admit it.</p> + +<p>“You seem to be very happy to-night, Jack.” Helen +tried hard to be natural. “What pleasant thing has +happened to you to-day?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>Armstrong drew up a chair for Inez and seated himself +beside Helen. “Nothing in particular,” he replied, +“except that I begin to see the end of my book in sight.”</p> + +<p>“I am very glad,” Helen answered, simply.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose you are.” Armstrong spoke pointedly, +looking at Helen with a curious expression on his +face. “Yes, I suppose you are.”</p> + +<p>Helen flushed. “I don’t mean it as you have taken +it, Jack,” she replied, quietly. “It has been a hard +strain on you, and I am glad to know that you can soon +get a change. I think you need it.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong still looked at Helen intently. “It has +been a strain,” he admitted, at length—“a strain on all +of us.” Then his face lighted up as of old. “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> +says the book is a masterpiece, Helen—do you understand, +a masterpiece. He says it is better than he believed +it possible for me to do; in fact, the best work on +the period which has ever been written. Can you wonder +that I am happy?” He turned from Helen to Inez. +“And I could never have accomplished it except for the +help of our friend here, who has so unselfishly changed +her plans at my request. You must thank her for me—for +both of us.”</p> + +<p>“Does it mean that your visit to Florence is about at +an end, Jack?” asked Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“Oh, there is much to be done yet,” replied Armstrong. +“The first draft is nearly finished, and the +material has all been sifted through; but I must go over +the manuscript once more at least, here in this atmosphere, +before returning to Boston.”</p> + +<p>“Even the Old South Church and Bunker Hill Monument +will seem very modern when you get back home, +won’t they?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Everything will seem modern,” Armstrong assented. +“I hate to think of leaving Florence, but there is one +thought which makes it easier. Miss Thayer will, of +course, visit us in Boston next winter, and she and I +will then have a chance to do some other work like this +together.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Armstrong!” cried Inez, aghast. “I +should not think of that for a moment. Believe me, +Helen, this is the first I have heard of it. It could not +be, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Why could it not be?” insisted Armstrong, stoutly.</p> + +<p>“You will understand when you take time to think +it over,” said Inez, picking up her gloves and starting +for the hall. “He does not mean it, Helen—truly he +does not!”</p> + +<p>“I do mean it,” urged Armstrong, as Inez disappeared. +“I mean every word of it. She is your most +intimate friend, and what could be more natural than +for her to visit us? Why could it not be?”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody answered:</p> + +<p>“There are some things in Boston which are as old as +anything you will find in Florence, Jack.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong failed to catch the drift of Mr. Cartwright’s +remarks.</p> + +<p>“You are trying to avoid answering my question,” +he replied. “To what do you refer that bears at all +upon the present discussion?”</p> + +<p>“Conventions,” said Uncle Peabody, calmly.</p> + +<p>“Conventions!” Armstrong repeated the word with +emphasis. “You don’t imagine that I am going to let +local conventions tell me what to do when I get home?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t imagine anything,” replied Uncle Peabody. +“I was merely stating a fact.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p>Helen saw the hot retort upon her husband’s lips. +“I would not discuss this any more until after dinner,” +she said, quietly, as she rose. “As Jack says, +it is a perfectly natural thing for Inez to visit +me. It is possible that it can be arranged in some +way.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” cried Armstrong. “I am glad that there is +one sensible person in the party!”</p> + +<p>He tried to slip his arm around Helen’s waist, but she +gently avoided him.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she urged, “we shall be late if we don’t get +ready now. We have too little time as it is.”</p> + +<p class="r3">After dinner Uncle Peabody and Inez announced their +intention of devoting the evening to letter-writing, so +Helen and Jack found themselves alone together in the +garden. Helen wrapped her shawl closely about her, +wondering at the chill which came over her when she +realized that she was alone with her husband and that +the opportunity for which she had waited was at hand. +She was silent, trying to decide how best to open the +conversation. Her mind was made up at last. If others +had begun to notice the estrangement, it was time that +Jack knew of it, and from her. All doubt, all uncertainty +had vanished.</p> + +<p>She looked long at her husband in the dim starlight. +He was so near her, yet how far away he really was! +Even he did not realize how far. She could see the lines +of his face lighted by his cigar as he silently smoked it, +his eyes fixed upon the lights of the city beyond. How +strong it was, Helen thought, how strong he was compared +with her own weak self! She wondered what his +thoughts were centred upon—whether on his masterpiece<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +or upon Inez! Upon Inez! That brought her back to +the task before her.</p> + +<p>It was a difficult task; she realized that. There could +be no immediate separation, for that would mean an interruption +to the work. She must stay in Florence until +the manuscript was completed or Inez could not remain. +No, there must not be any break between Jack and herself +for the present, or his mind would be taken from +his book and another failure added to the great one in +which she felt herself to be the most concerned. Yet she +must make him understand that she was not dull to the +signs which she and the others could but read. To continue +to act as if ignorant of them would be the worst of +all. She must remain his wife until his supreme effort +was accomplished, then the living lie could be ended and +the new and separate life begun.</p> + +<p>Armstrong interrupted her reverie before it had quite +come to an end.</p> + +<p>“You are not looking like yourself lately, Helen,” he +said, abruptly. “I meant to have spoken of it before.”</p> + +<p>Helen started at the suddenness of his remark. “Not +looking like myself?” she repeated, mechanically. “How +do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“You look tired and worn out.”</p> + +<p>“I am getting older, Jack,” Helen smiled, sadly. +“Perhaps that is what you have noticed.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” replied Armstrong. “You used to be so +bright and vivacious, and now you sit around and hardly +say a word.”</p> + +<p>She could not answer for a moment. “I did not realize +that I had become such poor company, Jack. You have +not seemed interested lately in the things I would naturally +talk about, and of course a great deal of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +conversation is upon subjects with which I am unfamiliar.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite sure that you are not getting too tired +going to all these social functions?”</p> + +<p>“Quite sure. If you stop to think a moment, these +are really the only entertainment I get. Would you prefer +that I stayed here at the villa alone?”</p> + +<p>“Why, no; unless you are doing too much of that +sort of thing. Are you feeling perfectly well?”</p> + +<p>Helen hardly knew what to reply. “Yes,” she said, at +length, “I am feeling perfectly well.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong showed his relief. “I told Uncle Peabody +he was an alarmist,” he said.</p> + +<p>“What did Uncle Peabody say?” queried Helen, +straightening up, Emory’s remarks coming back to her. +“I did not know that you and he had been discussing +me.”</p> + +<p>“He said that you were unhappy, and fast becoming +a fit subject for Italian malaria. He had better stick to +his specialty, and not try to become a general practitioner.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Helen, relieved that she had not been anticipated, +and resuming her former position.</p> + +<p>“Of course he was as mistaken about your being unhappy +as he was about your being ill,” Armstrong continued, +his remark being half assertion and half question.</p> + +<p>Helen made no response. He waited a moment or two, +glancing at her furtively, and then put his question more +directly.</p> + +<p>“You are not unhappy, are you?”</p> + +<p>Helen tried to fathom the motive which underlay this +question. At last Jack had become conscious of the fact +that he had hurt her and was endeavoring to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +amends. This was like him; what he had said and done +during the weeks past was not like him. Now something +which Uncle Peabody had said had brought him to himself +again. He saw a duty to perform, and he assumed +it conscientiously; but it was an act of duty rather than +an act of love—she felt that in every word he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jack,” she finally admitted, “I am very unhappy.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong was annoyed. “I really thought you were +stronger, Helen,” he said, petulantly. “It is all over +this library work, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“I am not strong,” replied Helen, quietly. “That is +where the whole trouble lies. I am wofully weak, and +I only wish that you and I had discovered it sooner.”</p> + +<p>“How would that have helped matters any?”</p> + +<p>“If we had discovered it before we were married it +would have helped matters a great deal,” said Helen, +with decision. “As we did not do that we must accept +things as they are until we can find a solution of the +problem.”</p> + +<p>“I have offered time and again to give up my work; +now it has reached a point where I simply must finish +it.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you must; I should be the first to oppose +you were you to suggest anything different.”</p> + +<p>“Then why are you unhappy? I don’t understand +you at all.”</p> + +<p>“I know you don’t, and you understand yourself just +as little. The work you are doing is simply an incident; +the results of that work in making you an entirely different +man is the main point. Do you not feel that yourself?”</p> + +<p>“So that is it,” replied Armstrong. “The work has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +made a different man of me, and you object to the +change.”</p> + +<p>“No, it is not the change which has made me unhappy. +During these weeks you have become infinitely +bigger and stronger and grander, and I admire you just +that much the more.”</p> + +<p>“Then why are you unhappy?”</p> + +<p>“Because”—Helen choked down a little sob—“because, +as you say, I am so weak. Because it has left me +just that much behind, and has shown me how little suited +I am to be your wife.”</p> + +<p>“How you do magnify things!” exclaimed Armstrong. +“It is not an uncommon thing for a husband to have +interests apart from his wife; it is no reflection on the +wife.”</p> + +<p>“But how much better—how much more helpful—if +the husband and the wife can share the same interests?”</p> + +<p>“Granted. But why suggest a modern miracle?”</p> + +<p>“It has shown me another thing,” Helen continued, +fearful lest she should be diverted from her main theme. +“Inez is already much more to you than I.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong sprang to his feet, with difficulty holding +back the angry words upon his lips. “This is going too +far, Helen,” he said, with forced calm. “Do you realize +that you are actually making an accusation?”</p> + +<p>Helen regarded him calmly but sadly. “I am making +no accusation,” she said, quietly. “I believe in your +loyalty to me and in your sense of what is right, but the +fact remains. Inez loves you, and has loved you almost +since the day she arrived. Is it possible that you are +insensible to this?”</p> + +<p>“You must stop!” expostulated Armstrong. “You +cannot realize what you are saying!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Do you remember what she told Ferdy De Peyster—‘I +love him better than my life’? Do you remember +the scene at the table when Phil Emory spoke of it and +her reply? Have you been with her day after day without +discovering that she worships the very ground you +walk on?”</p> + +<p>“It would be useless to try to answer you, Helen,” +Armstrong replied, forcefully. “The most generous +view I can take of what you say is to attribute it to a +jealousy as unfounded as it is unworthy of you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Jack, if you only knew!” Helen looked at him +reproachfully. “There is no jealousy in my heart even +now, my husband, nothing but the greatest admiration +and the deepest love. Sometime you will understand. +You have a great career before you—greater, perhaps, +than I can realize, because I know of your work only +through others. This career is one which I must not +injure, which I shall not limit. Inez can help you +in attaining it, and it is right that she should do +so.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s curiosity gained the better of his resentment. +“What do you propose to do to bring all this +about?” he asked, incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Whatever may be necessary,” Helen replied, looking +at him firmly, “even though it breaks my heart.”</p> + +<p>“Surely you have not suggested any of this nonsense +to Miss Thayer?” Armstrong asked, suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I have not talked with her about it,” replied Helen, +quietly.</p> + +<p>“That is to be placed to your credit, at all events. +Miss Thayer has no more sentiment toward me of the +kind you suggest than if she had never met me. She is +the best kind of a friend and a most valuable assistant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +but that is all. My feelings toward her are exactly the +same—no more, no less. I beg of you not to let anything +so absurdly improbable stand between us now or +later. Come, we had better go in.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t wait for me,” Helen answered, wearily. “I +will stay here a while longer. The cool air feels very +grateful to-night.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong left her there, alone with the stars and her +thoughts. The break was made. They had stood at the +parting of the ways, and Helen had pointed out to him +the path which she knew she could not travel with him. +He, with all his strength of mind, had left her without +realizing what had happened. Helen had not expected +him to understand her motive—that must come later—but +she had thought that he would at least appreciate +what she had said. Perhaps it was better so. She had +known that he would disclaim the affection which she +felt he could but entertain toward Inez; she was certain +that he himself did not yet appreciate how firmly installed +his “sister worker” had become in his heart. But +Helen was no less convinced that she was right. Jack +would realize it soon enough, and then he would know +what she had really done to make it easier for him. Perhaps +this was better, too.</p> + +<p>The storm was over, and Helen remained as the +weather-beaten evidence that it had taken place. Exhausted +both in mind and body, she lay back in her +chair, with her eyes wide open, her thoughts rushing +madly to and fro seeking a new anchorage. She must +keep her strength for the ordeal yet before her. She +must play her part through to the end without wavering, +or what she had already endured would be of no avail. +So at last she bade good-night to the stars which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +been her silent companions and entered the house. Mechanically +she fastened the veranda shutters and went +up-stairs to her room, closing the door to the world outside, +with which she felt she must become acquainted +anew as she pursued her chosen path—alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XIX</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The contessa found herself eager to continue her +inquiries along the new lines which had so clearly +indicated themselves during the conversation with +Mrs. Armstrong and Emory. This desire was by no +means malicious, for those very attributes which attracted +Helen to her would have contradicted anything so +really reprehensible, even as a counter-irritant. In the +contessa’s life, filled as it was with <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</i> in spite of her +heroic efforts to enliven it with excitement, gossip and +a bit of scandal acted as agreeable and much-needed +stimulants. She may never have put this thought into +words any more than the man does who depends upon +his modest tipple to give zest to his daily routine; yet, +like him, she found her dependence upon her stimulant +growing slowly yet steadily as the days advanced +and the “dear <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span>” became more and more “impossible.” +In the present instance the interval since +the last spicy episode had been longer than usual, and +the contessa felt a thrill of enthusiastic delight replace +the dull apathy which she had lately experienced, even +at the suggestion of the conditions as she thought she +saw them. It was a problem which offered her the joy +of solution rather than merely a curiosity to learn more +of the various factors which entered into it.</p> + +<p>She liked Helen from the first moment of their meeting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +America often seemed far away to the contessa, +and her new acquaintance brought it nearer to her; but +beyond this Helen proved in herself to be more than ordinarily +interesting. The contessa had known women as +beautiful as Mrs. Armstrong, she had known women who +carried themselves with equal self-confidence and independence; +but never had she seen these combined with +such lofty ideals actually maintained. Her early impression +that Helen’s idealism was the result of innocence +was soon corrected. In the school of experience there +are taught two branches in which every clever woman of +the world must perfect herself—character-reading and +the gentle art of self-defence; both are absolutely essential +to her success. Men underestimate their importance, +and thus develop them to a lesser degree; as a result, +the woman’s intuitive reading of character is as +much more delicate and subtle as is her practise of self-defence, +and to a similar extent more effective. Amélie +was a medal pupil in both these branches, and her instinctive +exercise of the first told her that she had discovered +an unusual personality among conditions which +under ordinary circumstances would work out along but +one line. This solution was not in keeping with what +she had read in Helen’s character, and she wondered +how the conditions themselves had come to exist. The +contessa hummed cheerily to herself as she moved about +the villa the next morning, and the servants took it for +granted that their master’s malady had taken a more +decided turn for the worse.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon the contessa’s motor-car drew up before +the entrance to the Laurentian Library. The custodian +at the gate took her card, and presently returned +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>announcing that the librarian was in his study. The +name of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> was well known to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, who had assisted +the count upon several occasions before his marriage +in disposing of some of the rare volumes which had +once been a part of his grandfather’s splendid collection. +The librarian had even casually met the new contessa +once or twice, but this was the first time she had honored +him with a call, and he wondered what her errand might +be. Possibly it was her desire to dispose of other volumes; +perhaps it was to protest against further despoliation; +at all events he would be guarded in his conversation +until her object was disclosed.</p> + +<p>“Welcome to the halls of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Medici</span>!” exclaimed +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, cordially, rising to greet his visitor as she appeared +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>The contessa smiled so radiantly in acknowledging his +salutation that the librarian was convinced that his first +hypothesis must be correct. “You are surprised to see +me,” she remarked, seating herself with deliberation and +looking across at her host with a friendly air. “You +may as well admit it, for I can read it in your face.”</p> + +<p>“Both surprised and pleased, contessa,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> answered, +maintaining his guarded attitude.</p> + +<p>“Your surprise should be that I have not been here +before,” Amélie continued.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” The old man held up his hand with a deprecatory +gesture. “You society women have so much to +divert you otherwise that I could scarcely expect, even +with the wonderful books I have here, to prove a magnet +sufficiently strong to draw you away from your customary +pursuits. And your husband has so many splendid +volumes in your own library that these here can hardly +prove a novelty.”</p> + +<p>“It is about these volumes that I came to see you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> smiled sagely, feeling pleased at his intuition.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we have some splendid old volumes, as you say,” +the contessa continued. “I have looked them all over +and have tried to study them, but beyond my admiration +for their beauty I must admit that I can’t make much +out of them.”</p> + +<p>“Then you are really interested in the books themselves!” +exclaimed the librarian, his pleasure increasing +with the prospect of securing a new convert. “This is +delightful!”</p> + +<p>“Of course.” The contessa raised her eyebrows with +well-feigned surprise. She was entirely satisfied with her +progress thus far. “But I don’t need to tell you that +my interest is not a very intelligent one. I tried to get +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> to tell me something about them once, but he +doesn’t know a book of hours from a missal, so I promised +myself the pleasure of learning from you, if you were +willing to teach me. Are you?”</p> + +<p>The contessa was fond of punctuating her conversation +with sharp interrogations, but in the present instance +the expression upon <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s face made any +question unnecessary.</p> + +<p>“This is the happiest year I have known since I first +made my home among these books, my daughter,” he replied, +with much feeling. “For a long time I felt as a +miser must feel surrounded by his gold, far more in +quantity than he can ever count, yet separated by its +overwhelming value from the world outside. My loneliness +came, of course, from another cause—I craved the +opportunity to share my treasures, yet this opportunity +came but rarely. Patiently have I waited, marvelling +that so few should even know that these treasures exist, +and a lesser number should care to partake of what is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +offered to them freely in as large quantities as they are +able to carry away. Year by year I have watched the +number increase, I have seen the signs of a veritable +renaissance; and as one after another comes to me, as you +have this afternoon, my heart fills with an unspeakable +joy.”</p> + +<p>The sincerity of the old man penetrated through even +the contessa’s worldly armor, but the problem she had set +herself to solve was too fascinating to be laid aside. The +librarian need never know how much less interest she felt +in books than in her present undertaking.</p> + +<p>“So this year has crowned your labors,” she replied, +sympathetically. “I do not wonder that you feel gratified! +You have had a greater number of converts, you +say, most of whom, I presume, come from the libraries +and universities near by.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all!” contradicted <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, eagerly. “They +come from England, from France, from Germany—and +even from your own far-off country, contessa.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” Amélie smiled at the air of triumph with +which the librarian uttered the last words. “From +America? Have my countrymen really discovered what +rich mines of learning are here in Florence?”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> nodded his head and drew his chair closer to +hers. “At this very moment there are two Americans +working here in the library who have so assimilated the +learning of the past that they have become a part of it +themselves. I have had many students here during all +these years, but never any one who was able so completely +to carry out my ideas of modern intellectual expression. +What they have done and are doing has given me +courage to believe that I am not so much of a visionary +as my colleagues think. If by my influence I can produce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +two such modern humanists my labors will not have +been in vain.”</p> + +<p>“Are these two wonderful men from some library or +university in America?” the contessa asked, with apparent +innocence.</p> + +<p>“They are not,” replied the librarian, with emphasis. +“If they were they would have come here, as the others +have, with preconceived ideas which centuries could not +break down. One of them is a young advocate from Boston, +and the other—you will scarcely believe me—is a +young woman.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” The contessa manifested an interest not +wholly assumed. “A young woman, you say—his wife, +perhaps?”</p> + +<p>“No, simply a friend.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Amélie smiled knowingly. “Then perhaps +soon to be his wife?”</p> + +<p>“You are wrong again, contessa,” replied <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>. +“The man is already married, so that could hardly be +the case.”</p> + +<p>“And his wife makes no objections? Come, come, +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">monsignore</span>, that would not be human.”</p> + +<p>“His wife is as remarkable in her way as he is in his,” +the old man answered, with confidence. “We have discussed +the matter, and she understands the importance +of allowing the work to go on.”</p> + +<p>“Then she has raised some objections? Do tell me +that she has or I shall find it difficult to believe your +story.”</p> + +<p>“She did suggest that she would have liked to be able +to do this work with her husband, but that was quite out +of the question, and she saw it just as I did.”</p> + +<p>“How very, very interesting!” the contessa remarked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +more to herself than to him. “I wish I might see them +at work.” The librarian hesitated, and Amélie knew +that hesitation is consent if promptly followed up. “I +will promise not to disturb them,” she urged.</p> + +<p>“I should not wish them to know that I was exhibiting +them to my friends,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> said, doubtfully. “Still, I +can see no harm unless we disturb them.”</p> + +<p>“Then come!” Amélie exclaimed, rising quickly lest +the old man change his mind. “I will be as still as a +mouse.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> led the way to the little alcove which Armstrong +and Inez had come to regard as a part of themselves. +Motioning to the contessa, he pointed out a place beside +an ancient book-shelf where she could observe without +herself being seen. Amélie studied the faces before her +carefully. Armstrong was so seated that only his profile +was visible, but Inez sat so squarely in front of +her that had she not been so engrossed in her labors +she could hardly have avoided seeing the contessa. It +was the girl’s face which first held Amélie’s attention. +In it she read all that Inez had fought so hard to conceal. +She had found the second woman! It was not the +usual type, she told herself. The passionate devotion to +its given object was there, but it was evidently absolutely +controlled by the intellectual. How much more interesting, +the contessa thought, but how much more dangerous!</p> + +<p>Then she turned her attention to Armstrong. He was +younger than she had expected and his personality far +more attractive. The height of his forehead, the depth +of his eye, the strength of his mouth were all carefully +noted. The contessa watched every movement, every +change in the expression, with the keenest delight. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +were an interesting pair, she admitted, but even her +astuteness, she was forced to confess, was unequal to +the task of understanding their relations without further +study. The problem was as new as it was fascinating, +and the contessa had no misgivings over her little plot, +which had worked out so successfully.</p> + +<p>She followed the librarian quietly back to his study, +where she made an appointment for him to examine with +her the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> collection and to point out to her the +merits of the various volumes. She expressed her thanks +for the charming afternoon he had given her, but +through it all, and even after she returned to her villa, +the faces of Armstrong and Inez were still before her. +Beneath that abstraction which the man’s face and manner +so clearly portrayed, was there a response to the +woman’s passionate adoration? Was he capable of affection, +or had the intellectual so far claimed the ascendency +that the physical had, for the time being at +least, become so subdued as practically to be eliminated? +Where did the wife, who had so attracted her, come in? +These were some of the questions over which the contessa +pondered. The problem was more complex than she anticipated, +and she found herself even more determined to +carry it through to a solution.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XX</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>A week passed by with little outward change at the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>. For a day or two after their interview +in the garden Armstrong watched his wife +carefully, but as there was apparently no difference in +her attitude toward him or toward Miss Thayer he decided +that what she had said at that time was the result +merely of a momentary mood which had since passed +away. He also watched Miss Thayer, to satisfy himself +in regard to the monstrous suggestion Helen had made +that she was in love with him, and became convinced +that his own explanation of her feelings toward him was +correct. Having settled these two important matters to +his entire satisfaction, he promptly discarded them from +his mind and devoted himself to the single purpose of +completing his work.</p> + +<p>“Once let me get this finished,” he said to himself, +“and Helen will see that there is nothing between us.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Inez had not been pleased with +Armstrong’s suggestion to Helen that she should take +up with him a similar kind of work in Boston. For +the first time since she had known him he had done +something which annoyed her. She realized better than +any one else the absorption which held him subject to +a different code of conventions, but this did not give +him a right to assume that she would accept such an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +arrangement, without at least raising the question with +her. Helen and Mr. Cartwright could but think that +the matter had already been discussed between them, and +it placed her in a false light at a time when she felt that +her position was sufficiently untenable without this unfair +and unnecessary addition. She also realized, as +Armstrong apparently did not even after Uncle Peabody’s +pointed remarks, that this daily companionship +would be entirely impossible.</p> + +<p>During those few days, therefore, when Armstrong +was observing her, she was in a mood quite at variance +with what Helen had described; but what had wounded +her in one respect proved to be a salve in another. Had +Armstrong been conscious of her affection for him, or +had he himself reciprocated it, the request would never +have been made. She was quite safe, therefore, to continue +on until the book was finished, and the danger lay, +as she had told her conscience, only with herself. And +even with this annoyance, which, after all, was but an +incident, she felt it to be her only happiness to stay beside +him as long as she could. She dreaded the time +when the break must come, for she saw no light beyond +that point.</p> + +<p>Helen had herself well in hand. She was conscious of +Jack’s scrutiny, and was also conscious of the relaxing +of his watchfulness. She saw his new interest in Inez, +and was equally conscious of her friend’s unusual frame +of mind. Everything seemed to Helen to be intensified +to such a degree that she could read all that was passing +in the minds of those about her, and she wondered if +some new power had been given her to make her test the +harder. She had already felt the force of the blow; the +others had it still before them. And it would be a blow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +at least to Jack, she was sure—not so hard a one as in +her own case, for after the pain of the break there was +for him happiness and serenity; but he had cared for +her, and when he once came to a realization of what must +be he would suffer, too. This was her only consolation.</p> + +<p>Naturally, Helen turned to Uncle Peabody. Now that +all was settled, it was better that he should know from +her how matters stood rather than surmise as he and +Emory had done; and besides this, the burden had become +too heavy to be borne alone. She waited a few +days for the right opportunity, which came during a +morning walk along the ancient road above the villa +which led to the highest point of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>. They had +left the frequented part of the path behind them, and +were strolling among the rocks and trees of the little +plateau commanding a view of the panorama on either +side.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could find out from Jack how much longer +you are to remain in Florence,” Uncle Peabody said. +“I really need to get back to my work.”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” exclaimed Helen, quickly. “Don’t go +yet. I need you so much!”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody regarded his niece critically. There +was a new note in her voice, and it pained him.</p> + +<p>“It won’t be much longer, uncle,” Helen continued. +“I need you here, and I may want you to go back home +with me.”</p> + +<p>“I could not do that, Helen; but of course I will +stay here as long as you really need me.”</p> + +<p>“But you would go back with me if I needed that, too, +would you not?” insisted Helen.</p> + +<p>“If you needed me, yes; but I can’t imagine any such +necessity.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It would be so hard to go home alone.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s voice sank almost to a whisper.</p> + +<p>“Alone?” echoed Uncle Peabody. “Is Jack going to +stay over here and send you back?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what Jack is going to do, but I shall +return home as soon as his book is completed; and unless +you go with me I shall go alone.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody understood. “My dear, dear child,” +he said, taking her hand in his and pressing it sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, please.” Helen gently withdrew her hand. +“If you do that I shall become completely unnerved. +Let us return to the villa; I really want to talk with you +about it.”</p> + +<p>The short walk home was accomplished in silence. As +they entered the hallway Uncle Peabody was the first to +speak. “Where shall we go?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“To my ‘snuggery,’” Helen answered. “There we +are sure not to be interrupted.”</p> + +<p>“Now tell me all about it,” he urged, as they seated +themselves.</p> + +<p>“I imagine you know a good deal about the situation +without my telling you,” began Helen, bravely; “but +I want you to know the whole story. Otherwise you can’t +help me, and without your aid I am absolutely alone.”</p> + +<p>“You know well that you can depend upon that,” he +interrupted.</p> + +<p>Helen moved nearer and passed her hand through +his arm. “We have made a horrible mistake, Jack and +I,” she said. “We are not at all suited to each other, +and never should have married.”</p> + +<p>“That is a pretty serious statement,” replied Uncle +Peabody.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It is,” assented Helen; “but the fact itself is +even more serious. Tell me, do you not see that Jack +is a very different man from the one you first met +here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he replied. “There can be no question about +that.”</p> + +<p>“If this change was but a passing mood it would not +be so serious,” continued Helen, “but the Jack I know +now is the real Jack, and as such our interests are entirely +apart.”</p> + +<p>“But all this may correct itself,” suggested Uncle +Peabody. “Why not get him away from the influences +which have produced this change and see if that will not +straighten matters out?”</p> + +<p>Helen was thoughtful for a moment. “That would +never do,” she said, at length. “You see, there is another +consideration which enters in. Inez and Jack are in love +with each other.”</p> + +<p>“Has Jack admitted this?” demanded Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>Helen smiled sadly. “No; he would never admit it, +even if he knew it to be true. At present his affection is +wholly centered upon his book, and he himself has no +real conception of how matters stand.”</p> + +<p>“Then why do you feel so certain? I think you are +right about Miss Thayer, but I have seen nothing to +criticise in Jack’s conduct except this complete subjugation +to his work.”</p> + +<p>“I have been watching it for weeks, uncle, and I know +that I am right. The old Jack—the Jack I married—found +in me the response he craved; but to the new Jack—the +real Jack—I can give nothing. Inez is his counterpart; +Inez is the woman who can talk his language +and live his life—not I.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There is no reason why you could not do this if he +gave you the chance,” he asserted.</p> + +<p>“At first it was my fault that I did not make the +effort when he did give me the chance. Then I tried to +enter into it—you remember the day I went to the library—but +it was too late. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> showed me how hopeless +it was. Then you remember Professor Tesso’s story. +He was right; they are absolutely suited to each other. +It is useless to fight against it and thus increase the +misery.”</p> + +<p>“If you are not going to fight against it, what are +you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“I am going to right the wrong in the only way which +remains,” replied Helen, firmly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see it yet.” Uncle Peabody showed his perplexity. +“What are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Jack and I must be separated just as soon as it can +be arranged.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody placed his hands upon her shoulders +and looked into her eyes. With all the advance signals +of the storm which he had noted he was unprepared for +this climax. “Surely that point has not yet arrived, +Helen,” he said, slowly. “‘Those whom God hath joined +together—’”</p> + +<p>“That is just the point,” she interrupted. “Those +whom God joins together are those who are suited to each +other. When it becomes evident that two people have +been married who are unsuited, it is also evident that +God never joined them together, and that they ought +not to stay together. That is the case with Jack and +me.”</p> + +<p>“Have you told Jack your decision?”</p> + +<p>“Not in so many words, but in substance. He does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +not appreciate the situation at all, and he won’t until the +book is finished.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you go home for a while and see what +happens?”</p> + +<p>“If I went away now Inez would have to leave, and +that would interrupt the work.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t follow you, Helen. One moment you speak +of the misery this work has brought to you, and the next +moment you can’t do something because it will interfere +with the very work which you would like to stop.”</p> + +<p>“It seems to be my fate not to be able to make myself +understood,” Helen replied, wearily. “Let me try again. +I have no desire to stop the work. It is a necessary part +of Jack’s development, and it will open up a great future +for him.”</p> + +<p>“But to continue this means to continue the intimacy +between him and Miss Thayer,” insisted Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“I have no desire to stop that, either.” Helen was +calm and firm in her replies. “It would be no satisfaction +to hold Jack to me when I know perfectly well +that duty and marriage vows remain as the only ties. +It breaks my heart that all this has happened, but +neither the work itself nor even Inez is responsible. +The other side of Jack was like an undeveloped negative—these +are simply the mediums which have brought out +the picture which was already there.”</p> + +<p>“You are not in a condition to consider this matter +as you should, Helen,” Uncle Peabody replied, hardly +knowing what to say. “The whole affair has been preying +on your mind for so long that you are arriving at +conclusions which may or may not be justified. Your +very calmness shows that you do not appreciate the seriousness +of your suggestions.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>Helen looked at Uncle Peabody reproachfully. +“Don’t make me think that men are wilfully obtuse,” +she said. “When I talked it over with Jack he called +it jealousy; now you think I lack an appreciation of the +seriousness of it all!” Helen paused for a moment and +closed her eyes. When she spoke again all the intensity +of her nature burst forth. “Can you not see beneath +this calmness the effort I am making to do my duty?” +she asked, in a low, tense voice. “Can you not see my +heart burned to ashes by the fire it has passed through? +Look at me, uncle. Jack says I seem ten years older—twenty +would be nearer the truth. Do these changes +come to those who fail to appreciate what they are doing? +It is not that I don’t realize; it is because I can’t +forget.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t misunderstand me, child,” Uncle Peabody +hastened to say, appalled by the effect of his words. +“My own heart has bled for you all these weeks, and I +would be the last to add another burden to the load you +bear. It is hard to suffer, but sometimes I think it is +almost as hard to see those one loves passing through an +ordeal which he is powerless to lighten. I don’t want you +to take a step which will plunge you into deeper sorrow, +that is all. You may be right, but I pray God that +you are wrong. Now let me help you, if I can.”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled through the mist before her eyes. “You +can help me,” she said, “just by being your own dear +self during these hard weeks to come. Stay here until +it is over, and then take me home, where you can show +me how to use the years I see before me.” Helen buried +her face in her hands. “Oh, those years!” she cried; +“how can I endure them?”</p> + +<p>“Come, come, Helen,” urged Uncle Peabody, kindly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +“I can’t believe that the world has all gone wrong, as +you think it has. Let us take one step at a time, and see +if together we can’t find the sun shining through the +cypress-trees. Tell me just what you propose to do.”</p> + +<p>“The programme is a simple one,” Helen answered. +“Outwardly there will be no change. I shall make Jack’s +home as attractive as possible to him while we share +it together. Inez is my guest, and will be welcome as +long as I am here. Other than this it will be as if we +all were visitors. Jack will notice no difference while +his work lasts. Then when it is completed you and I +will go back home. Jack may stay here or return, as +he chooses. Inez will decide her own course. Then Jack +will at last understand that I meant what I said—that +I saw that I stood in the way of his future and stepped +aside.”</p> + +<p>“Do you imagine that he will permit this when once +he understands?” asked Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“He will try to prevent it,” assented Helen. “He +will realize that he has neglected me and he will want to +atone, but this will be from a sense of duty, even though +he does not know it. The actual break will be a blow to +him, but then he will turn to Inez and will find that I +understood him better than he did himself.”</p> + +<p>“But he is counting on continuing this work in Boston +next winter. He spoke of it again yesterday, and +said how splendid it was of you to make it possible for +Miss Thayer to work there with him.”</p> + +<p>Helen rose and stepped out into the garden, looking +far away into the distance. Then she turned toward him.</p> + +<p>“I am making it possible, am I not?” she said, simply.</p> + +<p>And the lump in Uncle Peabody’s throat told him that +he understood at last.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>The evening had arrived for the reception at +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span> by which Helen was to acknowledge +the many social obligations laid upon her by +her friends in Florence. In the details of preparation +she had found temporary relief from her ever-present +burden, with Uncle Peabody assuming the rôle of general +adviser, comforter, and prop. Together they had +worked out the list of guests; together they had planned +the many little surprises which should make the event +unique. Much to old <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>’s disgust, his own flowers +were found to be inadequate, and to his camellias, lilies, +oleanders, and roses was added a profusion of those rare +orchids which bear witness that the City of Flowers is +well named. Emory was also pressed into service as the +day drew near, and his energy was untiring in carrying +out the ideas of his superior officers and in suggesting +original ones of his own.</p> + +<p>Armstrong had expressed his willingness to co-operate, +but was obviously relieved to find his services unnecessary. +He had reached a crisis in his work, he explained, and if +he really was not needed it would hasten the conclusion +of his labors if they might be uninterrupted at this +particular point. Inez had also offered her aid, but +Armstrong insisted that she could not be spared unless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +her presence at the villa was absolutely demanded. So +the work upon the masterpiece had proceeded without a +break, while little by little the plans for the reception +matured.</p> + +<p>The novelty of the preparations consisted principally +in the electrical and the floral displays. Uncle Peabody +succeeded in having a number of wires run from the +trolley-line into the villa and the garden, leaving Emory +to plan an arrangement of lights which did credit to +the limited number of electrical courses which his college +curriculum had contained. The grotto was lighted +by fascinating little incandescent lamps, which shed their +rays dimly through the guarding cypresses but full +upon the varicolored shells and stones. Along the top +of the retaining wall, and scattered here and there at +uneven distances and heights among the trees and the +statues, the lights looked like a swarm of magnificent +fire-flies resting, for the time, wherever they happened to +alight. But Emory’s <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pièce de résistance</i> was the fountain, +beneath the spray of which he had helped the electrician +to fashion a brilliant <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fleur-de-lis</span> in compliment to +the city of their adoption.</p> + +<p>This final triumph was brought to a successful conclusion +almost simultaneously with the cessation of +Helen’s labors in transforming the dining-room, the +hallway, and the verandas into veritable flower arbors. +Old <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> and the florist’s men had accomplished +wonders under Helen’s guidance, and they approved the +final result as enthusiastically as they had opposed the +scheme at first, when Helen had insisted upon a departure +from the conventional “set pieces” which they tried +to urge upon her. Realizing that the time was approaching +for the light repast, and glad of a respite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +Helen wandered out to the garden where Emory and +Uncle Peabody, hand in hand, were executing an hilarious +dance around the fountain.</p> + +<p>“What in the world—” began Helen, in amazement.</p> + +<p>“It is great, is it not, Mr. Cartwright?” cried Emory, +ceasing his evolutions and turning to Uncle Peabody. +“This settles it; I am going home on the next steamer +and set myself up as an electrical engineer—specialty, +decoration of Italian gardens. Watch, Helen—I will +turn on the lights.”</p> + +<p>In an instant the flitting insects were flickering +throughout the garden, and the water of the fountain +became a living flame. Helen’s first exclamation of delight +was interrupted by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span>’s groan of terror as +the old gardener hastily retreated to the house, crossing +himself and praying for divine protection against the +magic of the evil one which had entered and taken possession +of his very domain. The suspicion with which +he had viewed the labors of the electricians during the +past few days was now fully justified, and he saw his +work of thirty years in danger of destruction by the conflagration +which he believed must inevitably follow.</p> + +<p>“Splendid, Phil!” cried Helen, when <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> was at +last quieted. “I had no idea you were carrying out so +grand a scheme. What should I have done without you?”</p> + +<p>“It was Mr. Cartwright’s idea, you know, Helen,” insisted +Emory.</p> + +<p>“To get the light up here—not the arrangement, +which is all to your credit,” Uncle Peabody hastened to +add.</p> + +<p>“I owe everything to both of you,” said Helen, holding +out a hand to each. “Now I want to see every +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>light.” Slowly they walked about the garden inspecting +the illumination. “It is perfect,” exclaimed Helen. +“I can’t tell you how pleased I am with it. I ought to +be jealous that you have so outdone me in your part of +the decoration, but I am really proud of you!”</p> + +<p>As they were taking an admiring view of the floral +arrangements Jack and Inez rode up. Emory started +to suggest to them a view of the garden, but a glance +from Helen prevented.</p> + +<p>“Save it for a surprise, Phil,” she whispered. “They +have no idea of what you have done.”</p> + +<p>It was nearly ten o’clock when the first guests arrived, +and for an hour Helen, Jack, and Uncle Peabody +greeted the brilliant gathering as it assembled. To most +of them Armstrong was a complete stranger, and it was +quite evident that many of those who had known and +admired Helen and Mr. Cartwright possessed no little +curiosity concerning this man of whom so little had been +seen.</p> + +<p>“Then there really is a Mr. Armstrong, after all,” +exclaimed the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Marchesa Castellani</span>, smiling blandly as +Helen presented him. “We had almost come to look +upon you as one of those American—what shall we say?—conceits.”</p> + +<p>The color came to Helen’s face, but before she could +reply <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> pressed forward from behind.</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Signor</span> Armstrong has been my guest these weeks, +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">marchesa</span>, inhaling the wisdom of the past instead of the +sweeter but more transitory grandeur of Florentine society. +This has perhaps been his loss, and yours; but, +with his great work nearly ready for the press, dare +we say that the world will not be the richer for the +sacrifice?”</p> + +<p>“I shall not be the one to dare,” replied the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">marchesa</span>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +again smiling and passing on to make room for others +behind her.</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> watched his opportunity for another word with +Helen. “I came to-night,” he said, “expressly to tell +you that your reward is near at hand. Another week +and your husband’s labors will be completed. I have +thought often of our conversation, and of your patience; +but the result of my advice has been more far-reaching +even than I thought. The character-building +has extended beyond him and his ‘sister-worker’—it has +reached you as well.”</p> + +<p>The arrival of new guests fortunately delayed the +necessity of immediate reply, but it also gave <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> an +opportunity to watch the effect of his words. The old +man’s voice softened as he continued:</p> + +<p>“You have suffered, my daughter; I did not know +till now how much. Yet suffering is essential. George +Eliot was a woman, and she knew a woman’s heart when +she wrote, ‘Deep, unspeakable suffering is a baptism, a +regeneration—the initiation into a new state.’ Your +initiation is passed, my daughter, and your enjoyment +of the new state is near at hand. Do you not see now +how far-reaching has been the influence?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Helen replied, with a tremor in her voice; +“and this time I think I may say that it has been more +far-reaching than even you realize.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s eyes sought hers searchingly. He had already +seen more than she had intended.</p> + +<p>“Then the book is really coming to its completion?” +she continued, calmly. “And you feel well satisfied with +my husband’s work?”</p> + +<p>“It is superb; it is magnificent,” cried <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, enthusiastically. +“He has produced a work which is without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +an equal in the veracity of its portrayal of the +period and in the insight which he has shown in dealing +with the characters themselves. It will make your husband +famous.”</p> + +<p>“We shall be very proud of him, shall we not?” replied +Helen, forcing a smile. “And he will owe so much +to you for the help and the inspiration you have given +him.”</p> + +<p>“And also to you, my daughter,” added the librarian, +meaningly.</p> + +<p>Emory approached as <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> left her side. “Every +one is in the garden now, Helen. May I take you +there?”</p> + +<p>Helen glanced around for her husband, and saw him +somewhat apart from the other guests engaged in a conversation +with the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span>. Unconsciously her +mind went back to what the contessa had said to her +about marriage in general and about her husband in +particular, and she wondered what her new friend +thought of him, now that they had actually met.</p> + +<p>“Jack has his hands full for the present,” Emory remarked, +noting her glance. “You need not worry about +him. By Jove, Helen, you are simply stunning to-night!” +he continued, in a low voice, as they strolled +across the veranda. “I have been anxious about you, +but now you are yourself again. You should always +wear white.”</p> + +<p>Helen made no answer. She was recalling to herself +the fact that to-night, for the first time, Jack had made +no comment upon her appearance, as he had always done +before; yet she had tried to wear the very things which +he preferred. After all, she thought, it was better so. +But what a mockery to stand beside a man, as she stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +with Jack this evening, jointly receiving their friends +and their friends’ congratulations! What deception! +What ignominy!</p> + +<p>In the mean time, as Emory had surmised, Armstrong +had his hands sufficiently full with the contessa. Her +mind had been too constantly applied to her interesting +problem, during the days which had elapsed since her +call upon <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, to allow this opportunity to escape her. +She had exercised every art she possessed to learn something +further from Helen; she even had Emory take +tea with her with the same definite object in view; but +either consciously or unconsciously both had parried her +diplomatic questioning with an air so natural and simple +as to convince her that they were not unskilled themselves +in the game in which she considered herself an +adept. The one thing which remained was the picture +she had seen at the library; but this had been so positive +in the impression which it had made that she found herself +even more keen than ever to follow up the small advantage +she had gained.</p> + +<p>Watching her opportunity, Amélie found herself beside +Armstrong, with the other guests far enough removed +to enable her to converse with him without being +overheard.</p> + +<p>“All Florence owes you a debt of gratitude for bringing +your beautiful wife here,” she began. “And how +generous you have been to let us have so much of her +while you have been otherwise engaged!”</p> + +<p>“It has been my misfortune not to be able to share +her social pleasures,” Armstrong replied. “Perhaps she +has told you of the serious work upon which I am engaged.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” answered the contessa, cheerfully. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +am sure every man in Florence who has had an opportunity +to meet your wife has blessed you for your devotion +to this ‘serious work,’ as you call it. Italian husbands +are not so generous, especially upon their honeymoon.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong bowed stiffly. The contessa’s manner was +far too affable to warrant him in taking offence, yet +he felt distinctly annoyed by what she said. Amélie, +however, gave him no opportunity to reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you don’t know these Italian husbands,” she continued, +shrugging her beautiful shoulders. “I have one, +so I know all about it. They go into paroxysms of fury +even at the thought of having their wives go about +without them, receiving the admiration of other men. I +have no doubt that at this very moment my dear <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Morelli</span> +is either abusing one of the servants or breaking some of +the furniture, just because I happen to be here while he +is nursing his gouty foot at home. I am always proud +of my countrymen when I see them, as you are, willing +to let their wives enjoy themselves without them.”</p> + +<p>“I do not think I have observed this trait among +American husbands developed to the extent you mention,” +Armstrong observed, with little enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t?” queried the contessa, innocently. +“Perhaps that is because you are such a learned man, +with your eyes upon your books instead of upon the +world. You must take my word that it is so. But you +know enough of the world to recognize admiration when +you yourself become the object of it?”</p> + +<p>Amélie fastened upon her companion an arch smile +so full of meaning that Armstrong was caught entirely +off his guard.</p> + +<p>“I the object of admiration?” he asked, incredulously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +“I wish I might think that you were speaking of +your own.”</p> + +<p>The contessa laughed merrily. “I certainly laid myself +open for that, did I not?” she replied. “Now suppose +I had said adoration instead of admiration, then +you would not have replied as you did.”</p> + +<p>“I should hardly have so presumed,” he said, mystified +by the contessa’s conversation.</p> + +<p>“Yet I have seen you the object of adoration—nothing +less. I have seen eyes resting upon your face filled +with a devotion which a woman never gives but once. +You ought to feel very proud to be able to inspire all +that, Mr. Armstrong. I should if I were a man.”</p> + +<p>“You have evidently mistaken me for some one else, +contessa. Otherwise I cannot understand what you are +saying.”</p> + +<p>Amélie looked at him curiously. “I wonder if you are +really ignorant of all this?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“You say that you have witnessed it, so it cannot +be my wife of whom you speak, as you have never +seen us together. I certainly know of no other woman +who cares two straws about me. It must be that you +have taken some one else for me.”</p> + +<p>“No; I am not mistaken.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s curiosity proved stronger than his resentment. +“And you have actually seen this?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Where and when?”</p> + +<p>The contessa’s mood had become serious. She realized +that she was playing with dangerous weapons. “If you +are sincere in what you say, Mr. Armstrong, you would +not thank me for telling you.”</p> + +<p>“But you have gone so far that now I must insist.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +Helen’s words suddenly came back to him as he spoke. +The contessa saw a change of expression come over his +face, and she held back her answer.</p> + +<p>“Was it at the Laurentian Library?” Armstrong +asked, impulsively.</p> + +<p>Amélie smiled triumphantly. “It is really better for +me not to answer that question, my dear Mr. Armstrong. +I only meant to pay you a compliment, and I fear +that I have touched on something I should have avoided. +You will forgive me, will you not?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong was for the moment too occupied with his +own thoughts to comprehend fully what she said to him. +Mechanically he pressed the hand which was held out to +him, and a moment later the contessa entered into a +merry conversation with some of her friends in the garden. +Too late he realized that he had tacitly accepted +the compromising position into which she had led him.</p> + +<p>Emory left Helen in the midst of an animated group +discussing in enthusiastic tones their appreciation of +the many innovations. The musicians were concealed +in the “snuggery,” playing airs from favorite operas, +while waiters from Doney’s served <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">gelati</i> and <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">paste</i> and +champagne at little tables scattered throughout the garden. +The cool air was grateful to Helen, and she threw +herself into the enjoyment of the moment. No one +among her guests realized how little the brilliant, happy +scene fitted in with the sorrow in her heart. Yet the +musicians played on, the guests chatted merrily, and the +lights reflected only that side of life which Helen felt +was hers no more. The hour-glass filled and emptied, +with no change save the departure of the guests.</p> + +<p>As the last good-night was spoken Helen sought mechanically +the low retaining wall against which she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +so often rested. Jack and Uncle Peabody were for the +moment inside the house, and she was alone. Yes, alone! +How strongly she felt it, now that the stillness replaced +the hum of voices which had filled the garden! Her +features did not change, but a tear, unchecked as it was +unbidden, coursed its way down her cheeks. Emory saw +it as he approached, unnoticed, to say good-night.</p> + +<p>“Helen!” he whispered, softly.</p> + +<p>She turned quickly and brushed the tear away with +her hand. “How you startled me!” she said. “I +thought every one had gone.”</p> + +<p>“Helen,” Emory repeated, “you are unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“I am tired,” she replied, lightly; “that is all.”</p> + +<p>“No, that is not all,” he insisted. “You are miserably +unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t, Phil,” she entreated.</p> + +<p>“I must, Helen,” Emory kept on. “I should have +no respect for myself if I kept silent another moment. +All this time I have stood by and seen you suffer without +saying a word, when I have longed to take you in my +arms in spite of all and comfort you as you needed to be +comforted.”</p> + +<p>“Phil, I beg of you!” Helen cried, beseechingly. +“You must not say such things. I am not strong +enough to stop you, and every word adds to the pain.”</p> + +<p>“Then there is pain!” cried Emory, fiercely. “At last +I know it from your own lips. And if there is pain it +gives me the right to protect you from it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Phil!” Helen sank helplessly into a chair.</p> + +<p>“I have the right,” Emory repeated. “My love, +which you cast aside when you accepted him, now gives +it to me; my loyalty in surrendering you to him for +what I thought was your happiness now gives it to me;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +his selfishness and his neglect now give it to me. And I +claim my right.”</p> + +<p>She made no reply. Convulsed with weeping, she sat +huddled in the chair, helpless in her sorrow.</p> + +<p>“I am going to Jack Armstrong now,” continued +Emory, savagely. “I am going to tell him what a brute +he is and demand you of him. I did not give you up to +be tortured by neglect while he devotes himself to his +‘affinity.’” Emory’s voice grew bitter. “And he calls +it his ‘masterpiece’! Better men than he have called it +by another name.”</p> + +<p>Helen rose, white and ghostlike in the pale, dim light. +She was calm again, and her voice was compelling in its +quiet force.</p> + +<p>“You have been my friend, Phil—a friend on whom +I have felt I could rely always; yet you take this one +moment, when I need real, honest friendship more than +ever before in all my life, to add another burden. Is +it kind, Phil—is it noble? I have suffered—I admit it. +Jack is the cause of it—I admit that, too. You have +discovered all this by pulling aside the veil which by +my friend should have been held sacred; but with my +heart laid bare before you, can you not see that it contains +no thought except of him?”</p> + +<p>“I do not believe it,” Emory replied, stubbornly.</p> + +<p>“You must believe it,” she continued, with finality. +“You know that my words are true. Jack Armstrong +is my husband and I am his wife. We must forget what +you have said and never refer to it again. Come, let +us join them in the house.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“Then we must say good-night here.”</p> + +<p>Emory took the outstretched hand in his. For a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +their eyes met firmly. Then he raised her fingers +to his lips.</p> + +<p>“It is not good-night, Helen,” he said, his voice +breaking as he spoke; “do you understand, it is not +good-night—it is good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Her glance did not falter, though a new sensation of +pain passed through her heart. “Good-bye,” she replied, +faintly, as she gently withdrew her hand.</p> + +<p>Armstrong watched Emory’s hasty departure and +Helen’s slow return to the house from his unintentional +place of concealment behind the oleanders, where his +footsteps had been arrested by the sound of voices. The +contessa’s remarks had recalled with vivid intensity his +conversation with Helen about Inez. She regarded his +relations with Miss Thayer to be at least questionable, +and he impatiently awaited the departure of the guests +to tell Helen what had happened and to set himself +right in her eyes. Now he had just heard Emory +express himself even more pointedly upon the same +subject.</p> + +<p>The consciousness that he had been an eavesdropper, +even though unwittingly, prevented him from carrying +out his purpose. As he saw Helen drag herself rather +than walk along the paths, he longed to fold her to his +heart and brush away her doubts for all time; but to +do this he must disclose his uncomfortable position, and +this he could not do. His resentment against Emory +faded away in the face of Helen’s splendid loyalty. +“My heart contains no thought except of him,” he had +heard her say; and he thanked God that his awakening +had not come too late.</p> + +<p>After a few moments he returned to the house from +the opposite side of the garden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Where is Helen?” he asked Uncle Peabody, whom he +met at the door.</p> + +<p>“She has gone to her room, Jack,” Mr. Cartwright +replied, without meeting his eyes. “She said she was +very tired, and asked particularly not to be disturbed.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong hesitated. She was hardly strong enough +to talk the matter over to-night, anyway. It would be +a kindness to leave it until to-morrow.</p> + +<p>“Thank God it is not too late!” Uncle Peabody heard +him repeat to himself, and the old man wondered if, +after all, the sun was going to shine through the cypress-trees.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Helen did not come down to breakfast the next +morning, so Armstrong and Miss Thayer found +themselves at the library at their usual hour in +spite of the festivities of the night before. The events +of the evening impressed upon Jack the necessity of +bringing his work to a speedy conclusion. With feverish +haste, and forgetful of his companion, he seized his +pen and transferred to the blank paper before him the +words which came faster than they could be transcribed. +Left to her own resources, Inez picked up the bunch of +manuscript and settled back in her chair to run it over, +glancing from time to time at Armstrong, who seemed +consumed by the task before him. Accustomed as she +was to his moods while at work, Inez was almost frightened +by the present intensity. She hesitated even to +move about lest he be disturbed, yet until he gave her +something to do she was wholly unemployed.</p> + +<p>For over an hour Armstrong’s pen ran on. The fever +was upon him, the message was in his mind, the spirit +must be translated to the more tangible medium of words. +At length, utterly exhausted for the moment, he threw +aside his pen and leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>“It is finished!” he cried, looking for the first time +into Inez’ face; “all is now actually written, and the +revision alone remains.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + +<p>Inez started to speak a word of congratulation, but +in a flood of realization she knew that the companionship +of the past three months was at an end. For the +revision Armstrong would need no assistance; so she +faltered for a moment, but the omission was unnoticed.</p> + +<p>“I have just written the summary in the last chapter,” +Armstrong continued. “I have taken <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>’s +allegorical statues in the Laurentian Chapel +as typifying the characteristics and the tendencies of +the period. All that I have written seems naturally +to lead up to them. Listen.”</p> + +<p>In a rich, tense voice Armstrong read from the sheets +which he gathered together in proper sequence:</p> + +<p>“‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span> himself has given us in his marbles +the truest interpretation of the times in which he lived. +After analyzing his correspondence and deducing from +this the customs of the people, we turn to a consideration +of the principles which lay beneath. The sculptor was +a poet, and the soul of the poet found expression not +through his words but through his hands. In the sacristy +of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Lorenzo</span> there are the tombs of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Medici</span>, +designed by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Michelangelo</span>. They are unfinished, as is +typical of the period in which they were designed. At +the entrance to these tombs rest allegorical figures, which +to the casual observer indicate phases of darkness and +of light, of death and of life. They are two women and +two men, and tradition names them ‘Night’ and ‘Day,’ +‘Twilight’ and ‘Dawning.’ To one who analyzes them, +however, after a profound study of the times in which +they were produced, comes a realization that they typify +the character and the religious belief of the people themselves. +These statues and their attendant <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">genii</span> are a +series of abstractions, symbolizing the sleep and waking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +of existence, action, and thought, the gloom of death, the +lustre of life, and the intermediate states of sadness and +of hope that form the borderland of both. Life is a +dream between two slumbers; sleep is death’s twin-brother; +night is the shadow of death, and death is +the gate of life.</p> + +<p>“‘In each of these statues there is a palpitating +thought, torn from the artist’s soul and crystallized +in marble. It has been said that architecture is petrified +music; each of these statues becomes for us a passion, fit +for musical expression, but turned, like Niobe, to stone. +They have the intellectual vagueness, the emotional certainty +that belong to the motives of a symphony. In +their allegories, left without a key, sculpture has passed +beyond her old domain of placid concrete form. The +anguish of intolerable emotion, the quickening of the +consciousness to a sense of suffering, the acceptance of +the inevitable, the strife of the soul with destiny, the +burden and the passion of mankind—this is the symbolism +of the period as expressed by their cold, chisel-tortured +marble.’”</p> + +<p>“Splendid, my son!” spoke <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s proud voice as +the librarian advanced toward them out of the dim recess +in which he had been standing; “that is a fitting +ending to a magnificent work. Your use of the statues +as symbolisms of their period is masterly. I myself have +felt it often, but with me the feeling has never found +expression.”</p> + +<p>“What a period that was!” exclaimed Armstrong. +“How it seizes one, even now, after four hundred years! +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Padre</span>,” he said to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, after a moment’s pause, “you +say that this work of mine is good?”</p> + +<p>The librarian nodded assent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If that is so,” continued Armstrong, impressively, +“it is no more to my credit than if <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Machiavelli</span> +or <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Leonardo</span> or the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Buonarroti</span> himself had written +it. It is they who have held my hand and guided my +pen.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, my son,” cried <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, with delight, “you are +indeed a true humanist—a man in whom the ancients +take delight! Too bad that you must drop it all, after +your brief experience among this galaxy of greatness, +to return to the humdrum of commonplace existence—too +bad, too bad!”</p> + +<p>“I shall never give it up, padre,” Armstrong replied, +firmly; “I could not if I tried.” He paused as he recalled +Helen’s wan face and spiritless step. “I have +been too intense. I owe it to my wife to share with her +interests which lie along other lines, but my life-work +has already been plotted out for me. I met these gods +years ago, and I did not know them; I felt them calling +me back to them, and I obeyed. They have let me sip +their cup of wisdom, and he who once tastes that delectable +draught runs the risk of becoming no longer his +own master. I must leave them for a breathing-spell; +I can never wholly give myself to them again; but never +fear, I shall ever come back to them. I could not help +it if I tried.”</p> + +<p>The librarian watched the enthusiasm of the younger +man with rapture.</p> + +<p>“My son, my son!” he cried, joyfully; “my life has +not been spent in vain if I have succeeded in joining one +such modern intellect to that noble band of sages who, +though of the past, are ever in the present. And you, +too, my daughter,” he continued, turning to Inez—“you, +too, have sipped the draught our friend speaks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +of; you, too, are linked irrevocably to the wisdom of the +ages.”</p> + +<p>Inez bowed her head as if receiving a benediction.</p> + +<p>“I have tasted of it, father,” she replied, seriously, +“but only in degree. This experience is one which can +never be forgotten, can never be repeated. I feel as if +I were saying good-bye to friends dear and true whom +I shall never see again.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>“I do not understand,” he said. “Why should you +ever say good-bye?”</p> + +<p>Inez tried to smile, but her attempt ended in a pitiful +failure.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing very strange about it,” she continued. +“You and I drifted into this work together +almost by accident. To me it has been a happy accident, +and I like to think that I have helped a little in your +splendid achievement. It has been an experience of a +lifetime, but, like most experiences which are worth anything, +it could never happen again.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong failed utterly to grasp the significance of +her words.</p> + +<p>“Of course not, unless you wished it so,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Not even though I wished it,” replied Inez, firmly.</p> + +<p>The contessa’s words were in Armstrong’s mind as +he looked into her face. If Helen could hear what she +had just said his explanations would be unnecessary. +He wished the contessa were there, if she really possessed +any such idea as her conversation had suggested. This +girl in love with him, yet calmly stating that their association +was at an end, and that any continuance was an +impossibility!</p> + +<p>“It has been a strain, Miss Thayer, as Helen said,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +he replied, finally; “I feel it myself. With the manuscript +actually completed, I shall take my time in putting +it into final shape. And now I suggest that we +get out into the air. Suppose we take a little run in +the motor-car out around <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span>, and then back +home, to surprise them at luncheon?”</p> + +<p>Inez saw in Armstrong’s suggestion a relaxing of the +strained condition which she had brought upon herself.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps Monsignor <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> will join us,” she added.</p> + +<p>“Never!” replied the librarian, with sudden fervor. +“I may indulge myself in air-ships when once they +become popular, but never in an automobile! I will +have <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Maritelli</span> telephone for your car.”</p> + +<p>Inez smiled at Jack as they watched <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> disappear +through the door of his study. Then Armstrong’s +face grew serious.</p> + +<p>“The old man loves me as if I were his son,” he said, +feelingly. “He is more proud of what I have done than +if he had accomplished it himself.”</p> + +<p>“He has reason to be proud,” replied Inez; “and so +have we all.”</p> + +<p class="r3">In olden days the bishop who was obliged to visit +his diocese at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span> or at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span> had not spoken +so lightly of the trip. Setting out on mule-back, and +scattering blessings as he left the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Porta a Pinti</span> by the +road still called the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via Fiesolana</span>, he hoped to reach +the “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Riposo dei Vescovi</span>” in time for dinner. There, +after a bountiful repast, he discarded his faithful beast +of burden, and entered the ox-drawn sledge which the +monks of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span> were bound to provide, reaching +the hill-top, if all went well, about sunset. But +this was before the days even of the stage-coaches, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +before the modern tramway enabled Mother Florence +to reach out and enfold her daughters in her arms.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur carefully picked his way through the +narrow <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Borgo San Lorenzo</span> into the more spacious +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza del Duomo</span>. Passing around the apse of the +cathedral, they entered the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via de’ Servi</span>.</p> + +<p>“Sometime we must stop and take a look at these +fine old palaces,” said Armstrong, leaning forward and +pointing down the street. “The Antinori, for instance, +has just been restored, and it has one of the most stunning +Renaissance court-yards in all Florence. We shall +pass by it in a moment.”</p> + +<p>The car crossed the square of the SS. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annunziata</span>, +where they stopped for a moment again to admire +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Andrea Della Robbia</span>’s swaddled babies on the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">façade</span> +of the Foundling Hospital, and to look up from <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Tacca</span>’s +statue of Duke Ferdinand to the window of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Antinori</span> +Palace, hoping for a glimpse of that face from the past, +whose history is recorded by Browning in his “Statue +and the Bust.” From this point the road was clearer, +passing up the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via Gino Capponi</span>, where Armstrong +again pointed out the house of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Andrea del Sarto</span>—“the +little house he used to be so gay in”—past the +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Capponi</span> Palace, and also that of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Clemente</span>, where +lived and died the last Stuart Pretender. With increasing +speed, they crossed the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Viale Principe Amedeo</span>, past +the gloomy <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza Savonarola</span>, around the Cemetery of +the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Misericordia</span>, to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Gervasio</span>, where the real ascent +began.</p> + +<p>The sudden change from the close atmosphere of the +library to the invigorating air acted as a tonic on Armstrong +and his companion; and in addition to this the +tension of three months’ close application was lightened.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +The book was actually written! Inez thought she had +never seen him in so incomparable a mood, as he called her +attention to many little points of interest which, during +other rides, had been passed unnoticed. On they went, +olive gardens alternating with splendid villas on either +side, until, almost before they realized it, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span> +was reached, and they paused to regard the magnificent +panorama spread out before their eyes. Armstrong +looked back and saw the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Via della Piazzola</span> behind him. +Then his glance turned to the steep hill in front. In a +flood of memory came back to him the details of the +last time he had been there—alone with Helen, so soon +after their arrival in Florence.</p> + +<p>“I measure everything by that day at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>,” she +had said to him; “I believe it was the happiest day I +ever spent.”</p> + +<p>How long ago it seemed to him, and how much had +happened since! She was not happy now—she had told +him so with her own lips; she had even been forced to +acknowledge it to Emory. He had been forgetful of +her during these weeks of study; but it was over now, +and he would make it up to her. When she saw him +back in his old semblance again her pain would pass +away, her happiness return, and the present misunderstanding +be forgotten.</p> + +<p>His thoughts of Helen reminded him of his intention +to return to the villa in time for luncheon, after which +he would tell her how deeply he regretted all that had +happened.</p> + +<p>“Turn around, Alfonse,” he said, looking at his +watch, “and run home as fast as you can; we have +hardly time to get there.”</p> + +<p>The return toward Florence was quickly made in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +spite of the sudden bends and narrow roads. Turning +sharply at <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Ponte a Mensola</span>, Alfonse increased his speed +as they approached the hill leading from the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Piazza</span> of +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span> to the villa.</p> + +<p>“Careful at the next turn, Alfonse; it’s a nasty +one,” cautioned Armstrong, aware that his instructions +were being carried out too literally.</p> + +<p>The machine was nearer to the corner than Alfonse +realized. He saw the danger, and with his hand upon +the emergency-brake he threw his weight upon the wheel. +Something gave way, and in another moment the car +crashed against the masonry wall, the engine made a +few convulsive revolutions, and then lay inert and helpless.</p> + +<p>Inez was thrown over the low wall, landing without injury +in the cornfield on the other side. Alfonse jumped, +and found himself torn and bruised upon the road, with +no injuries which could not easily be mended. But Armstrong, +sitting nearest to the point of contact, lay amid +the wreckage of the machine, still and lifeless, with a +gash in the side of his head, showing where he had +struck the wall.</p> + +<p>By the time Inez had found an opening Alfonse had +gathered himself up, and together they lifted Armstrong +on to the grass by the side of the road. Two +frightened women and a boy hurried out from the peasant’s +cottage near by, the women wringing their hands, +the boy stupefied by fear.</p> + +<p>“Some water, quick!” commanded Inez; and one of +the women hastened to obey.</p> + +<p>Wetting her handkerchief and kneeling beside the still +figure, Inez bathed Armstrong’s face and washed the +blood from the ugly cut. She chafed his hands and felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +his pulse. There was no response, and she turned her +ashen face to the women watching breathless beside her.</p> + +<p>“He is dead,” she said, in an almost inarticulate voice. +The women crossed themselves and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>“May we take him in there,” she asked, pointing to +the cottage, “while the chauffeur brings his wife?”</p> + +<p>Between them the body was gently lifted into the cottage +and laid upon the bed in the best room. Then +Alfonse set out upon his solemn mission.</p> + +<p>“Leave me with him,” Inez begged rather than commanded +the woman who remained. “I will stay with +him until they come.”</p> + +<p>She closed the door. Leaning against it for support, +with her hand upon the latch, she gazed at the inanimate +form upon the bed. The necessity of action had +dulled her realization of the horror, and, sinking upon +the floor, she buried her face in her hands, giving way +for the first time to the tears which until now had been +denied. The first paroxysm over, she raised her head +and looked about the room. Every object in it burned +itself into her mind: the straw matting on the floor, the +cheap prints upon the wall, the rough cross and the +crucified Saviour hanging over the bed. Dead—dead!</p> + +<p>“Oh, God,” she murmured, incoherently, to herself, +“is this to be the solution of this awful problem—inexplicable +in life, unendurable in death!”</p> + +<p>Suddenly she rose from the floor and stood erect. She +looked at the closed door—then turned to where the +body lay. She rested her hand upon Armstrong’s forehead. +Then sitting upon the edge of the bed she gently +lifted his arm and grasped his hand as her body became +convulsed with heart-breaking sobs.</p> + +<p>“Jack!” she cried, covering his hands with kisses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +“Jack—speak to me! Tell me that you are not dead,” +she implored. “Oh no, no—that cannot be; you are too +grand, too noble to die like this!”</p> + +<p>She rose and stood for a moment looking down at him.</p> + +<p>“Dead!” she repeated, piteously—“dead!” A hectic +glow came into her face. “Then you are mine!” she +cried, fiercely. “Jack, my beloved, you are mine, dear—do +you hear?—and I am yours. Oh, Jack, how I have +loved you all these weeks! Now I can tell you of it, +dear—it will do no harm!”</p> + +<p>Again she sat upon the bed and placed her hands +upon his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“My darling, my beloved!” she whispered. “Open +your eyes just once and tell me that I may call you +mine if only for this one terrible moment. This is our +moment, dear—no one can take it from us! Have you +not seen how I have loved you, how I have struggled +to keep you from knowing it. Jack, Jack! this is the +beginning and the end.”</p> + +<p>The room seemed to spin around, and before her eyes +a mist gathered.</p> + +<p>“I am dying, too, Jack,” she said, frankly—“thank +God, I am dying, too.”</p> + +<p>At last Nature applied her saving balm to the strained +nerves, and Inez’ sufferings were temporarily assuaged +by that sweet insensibility which stands between the +human mind and madness. So Helen found her, a few +moments later, when pale and trembling she entered the +room.</p> +<hr class="l3"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III"></a>BOOK III<br /><br /> + +CO-PARTNER WITH NATURE</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXIII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Helen received the heart-breaking news from +Alfonse with a degree of control which surprised +even Uncle Peabody. Her questions were few, +but so vital in their directness that by the time she had +learned the nature and the seriousness of the accident, +and the location of the cottage where her husband’s +body lay, she was hurrying to the scene of the calamity.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where to reach an American or English +surgeon?” she promptly asked Uncle Peabody, and +his affirmative reply as he hastened to the telephone was +the last word she heard as she left the villa.</p> + +<p>Once in the cottage, she followed the guidance of the +weeping, awe-struck peasants, who silently pointed out +to her the room of death. She opened the door, and +crossed the room with a firm step. Sinking to her knees +beside the bed, she buried her face for a brief moment in +her hands—then she rose quickly to her feet. With +the help of the woman who had entered with her, she +lifted Inez’ inert figure from across her husband’s body.</p> + +<p>“She has fainted, poor child!” she said, quietly, +divining that the girl’s insensibility was not serious. +“Let us take her into the next room.”</p> + +<p>Leaving the woman to provide for Inez’ necessities, +and giving her instructions how to act, Helen turned +from the improvised cot to go back to Jack. His hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +were still warm, but she could find no perceptible pulsation. +She loosened his collar and moved his head a little +to one side, discovering the wound for the first time. +A cry of pain burst from her as she drew back sick and +dizzy, her lips quivering and tears starting to her eyes. +Then she leaned over him again, gently washing away +the slight flow of blood with a moist cloth which one +of the women handed her.</p> + +<p>“Look!” she cried, pathetically, to Uncle Peabody, +who entered the room a moment later, pointing to the +wound and gazing into his eyes with her own distended +by her suffering and her sense of helplessness.</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody put his arm about her, and rested his +other hand upon Armstrong’s wrist. “Dr. Montgomery +will be here in a moment, Helen,” he said, quietly, feeling +instinctively that this was no time for words of sympathy. +“I caught him at the Grand Hotel, and there +was a motor-car at the door.”</p> + +<p>“He is dead!” was Helen’s response, piteous in its +intensity.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not, dear,” replied Uncle Peabody, soothingly. +“Let us stand by the window until the doctor +comes.”</p> + +<p>Helen refused to suffer herself to be led away from +her husband’s side.</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” she said, simply, shaking her head; “I +must watch over him.”</p> + +<p>Then she turned back to resume her self-appointed +vigil, and suddenly found herself looking into his open +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Jack!” she cried, seizing his face in her hands as she +again sank upon her knees—“oh, Jack!”</p> + +<p>She could find no other words in the revulsion which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +swept over her. Her cry quickly brought Uncle Peabody, +and the women drew near to behold the miracle +of the dead brought to life; but all except Helen fell +back as the doctor entered.</p> + +<p>“He lives, doctor!” she exclaimed exultantly, her face +radiant with joy.</p> + +<p>“Then there is hope,” he replied, with a reassuring +smile, as he began the examination of his patient.</p> + +<p>Helen followed every motion as the doctor proceeded, +encouraged by the confidential little nods he made at +the conclusion of each process, as if answering in the +affirmative certain questions which he put to himself. +Armstrong again opened his eyes as the doctor carefully +investigated the depth of the wound, and his lips moved +slightly. Helen impulsively drew nearer, but the sound +was barely articulate.</p> + +<p>The doctor drew back the lids and peered intently +into his open eyes, nodding again to himself. At length +he turned to the silent group about him, who so eagerly +waited for the verdict.</p> + +<p>“Will he live?” was Helen’s tense question as she +seized his arm.</p> + +<p>Dr. Montgomery looked into the upturned face with +a kindly smile. “I hope so, Mrs. Armstrong,” he answered, +quietly. “It is a severe concussion of the brain, +and we must await developments.”</p> + +<p>“Are there unfavorable signs?” asked Uncle Peabody, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“No; quite the contrary so far. There is no fracture +of the skull, and the normal size of the pupils shows no +serious injury to the brain.”</p> + +<p>“The unconsciousness is due simply to the concussion?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Exactly.”</p> + +<p>“Then what do you fear?”</p> + +<p>“There is always danger of meningitis. We can tell +nothing about this until later.”</p> + +<p>“Will it be safe to move him?” asked Helen.</p> + +<p>“Yes; and you had better do so. I must dress and +sew up the wound, and then he can be carried home on +a stretcher. Suppose you leave me alone with him now, +while I make his head a bit more presentable.”</p> + +<p>Helen’s buoyancy was contagious as she and Uncle +Peabody started to leave the room, but Jack’s voice recalled +them.</p> + +<p>“It is—the symbolism—of the period,” he muttered, +incoherently.</p> + +<p>“It is all right,” the doctor replied to Helen’s startled, +unspoken interrogation. “He is delirious, and will be +so for days.”</p> + +<p>Satisfied with the explanation, they passed through +the door into the next room, where they found Inez +sitting weakly in an arm-chair, her hair dishevelled, her +face white as marble, supported by the woman in whose +care she had been left.</p> + +<p>Helen hurried to her. “He is not dead!” she cried, +joyfully—“do you hear, Inez? Jack is alive, and the +doctor thinks he will recover!”</p> + +<p>Inez answered with a fresh flood of tears. “Oh, +Helen! Helen!” she murmured, clinging impulsively to +her arm.</p> + +<p>Helen’s recovery came much more spontaneously than +did Inez’. With the one the pendulum had made a +completed swing, and the depths at one extreme had +been offset by the heights at the other. Inez, however, +was hopelessly distraught by the accumulated weight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +of a multitude of emotions: the physical shock of the +accident, the horror of the situation as it first burst upon +her with unmitigated force, the involuntary tearing +from her heart of the mask it had worn for so many +months—and now the painful joy of the reaction. She +rested in her chair, almost an inert mass, in total collapse +of mind and body.</p> + +<p>“I could not help it, Helen,” she murmured, piteously, +as her friend pushed back the dishevelled hair from +her hot forehead.</p> + +<p>“Of course you could not, dear,” Helen cried, smiling +through her tears of joy at the obvious relief her words +gave. “Oh, I am so happy, Inez!”</p> + +<p>Helen’s face grew pale again as her thoughts returned +to those first awful moments, which now seemed so long +ago. “I really thought him dead, Inez,” she continued, +after a moment’s silence. “We could not have endured +that, could we, dear? Now we will take him to the +villa and nurse him back to health and strength. How +strange it will seem to him not to be able to do things +for himself!”</p> + +<p>“Is he—badly hurt?” ventured Inez.</p> + +<p>“The doctor can’t tell yet, but he feels encouraged.”</p> + +<p>“Is he—conscious?”</p> + +<p>“Not wholly—and the doctor says he will be delirious +for days.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” replied Inez, again relaxing.</p> + +<p>Dr. Montgomery quietly entered the room, carefully +closing the door after him. “All goes well,” he replied +to the questions before they were put to him. “The +patient is resting quietly and may be moved as soon as +a stretcher can be secured. Your villa is near by, I +think Mr. Cartwright said?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The stretcher is being prepared,” replied Uncle +Peabody, answering the doctor’s question, “and I have +sent for two strong men.”</p> + +<p>“Good. Have I another patient here?” Dr. Montgomery +turned to Inez.</p> + +<p>“She is suffering only from the shock,” answered +Helen.</p> + +<p>“Let me take you both home in my motor-car,” suggested +the doctor.</p> + +<p>“Take Miss Thayer,” Helen replied, quickly.</p> + +<p>“Oh no!” Inez shuddered; “I can never enter one +of those awful things again!”</p> + +<p>Dr. Montgomery smiled indulgently. “It will really +be better, Miss Thayer, and I will personally guarantee +your safe arrival.”</p> + +<p>“I would rather walk beside the stretcher,” Helen +continued; “there might be something I could do.”</p> + +<p>The doctor bowed as he acquiesced. “Your husband +will require very little to be done for him for some days, +Mrs. Armstrong,” he said; “but if you prefer to stay +near him your suggestion is better than mine.”</p> + +<p>“Did he speak again, doctor?” asked Helen.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he replied, with a professional shrug; “but +he said nothing. You must pay no attention to his +ramblings. His mind will remain a blank until Nature +supplies the connecting link. In the mean time he will +require simply quiet and rest.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody’s stretcher was soon ready for service, +and the still unconscious burden was gently lifted upon +it and carried with utmost tenderness up the hill to the +villa, where old <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Giuseppe</span> and the maids received the +party with unaffected joy at the good news that their +master would survive the accident that had befallen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +him. With the aid of the trained nurse they found +awaiting them, Armstrong was carefully transferred +from the stretcher to his own bed, Inez was made comfortable +in her room, and the doctor sat down upon the +veranda with Helen and Uncle Peabody, who welcomed +a moment’s rest after the wearing experience of the +past hour.</p> + +<p>“Tell us the probabilities of the case, Dr. Montgomery,” +said Uncle Peabody. “Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong +were planning to return to Boston soon, and +now it will of course be necessary to rearrange their +plans.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” assented the doctor. “I will tell you +all I can. These cases are somewhat uncertain, but +the patient’s delirium will surely last for several days. +Then comes a slow period of convalescence, during which +time the body repairs much more rapidly than the mind. +You cannot count on less than two months, even with +everything progressing favorably.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody glanced over to where Helen was +sitting.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care how long it takes,” she replied to his +implied interrogation, “so long as he gets well.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Montgomery smiled as he rose to take his leave. +“My patient is evidently in good hands,” he said. +“The nurse will do all that needs to be done until I +return in the course of an hour or two.”</p> + +<p>Helen and Uncle Peabody sat in silence for some moments +after the doctor departed. There was nothing +further to be done for the present, as both Jack and +Inez were resting as comfortably as could be expected +under the circumstances, and absolute quiet was the +one thing needful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well,” said Uncle Peabody, at length, “it is the unexpected +which has happened again.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Helen assented without looking up; “if it +keeps on happening with such startling regularity I +shall begin to expect it, and then your theory will lose +its point.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody was in a thoughtful rather than an +argumentative mood.</p> + +<p>“If I was not afraid you would think me heartless, +Helen, I would say that I believe I see the hand of +Providence in this.”</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>“Of course, assuming that Jack recovers,” he hastened +to add.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid my philosophy is hardly equal to this +test,” Helen replied, unsympathetically. “I am supremely +happy that the affair is not so serious as it +seemed at first, but I can’t see anything particularly +providential in the injury poor Jack has sustained, nor +in the suffering he must pass through at best.”</p> + +<p>“Is it not just possible that this long period of convalescence, +which Dr. Montgomery says is inevitable, +may bring him to himself again?”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled sadly. “It was the work at the library +which brought him to himself, uncle. A separation from +those influences which so strongly affected him there +may result in a return to the old self I knew before we +came here; but that is not his real self.”</p> + +<p>“If he returns to that condition, no matter what +brings it about, will it not simplify matters?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t see how,” replied Helen, seriously. “If I +had never known this new development in Jack’s nature, +I should of course be quite content to have him return<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +to his former self; but having seen him as he really is, +I could never accept any condition which allows him no +development of his higher and stronger personality. It +would not be fair either to him or to me.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody regarded Helen curiously. “Let me +make myself clearer,” he said, with considerable emphasis. +“Only this very morning you were discussing +with me the final outcome of what appeared to be a +domestic tragedy. Your husband was controlled by the +spell of the old-time learning which had reached out +from its antiquity to grasp a modern convert. You +were convinced that Miss Thayer’s sentiments toward +your husband had developed into affection, and you +stated in so many words that if Jack did not reciprocate +this affection he really ought to do so, because she was +the one woman in the world qualified by nature to be his +wife. In the presence of this overwhelming condition +you very generously planned—and I expressed to you +how much I admired your spirit—to eliminate yourself, +and to sacrifice your own happiness in order to enable +your husband to accomplish his destiny.”</p> + +<p>“You are making sport of me—it is most unkind!” +she cried, reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“You know I wouldn’t do that,” insisted Uncle Peabody. +“I am merely presenting a simple statement of +the case in order to prove my original assertion. Please +let me continue. Just as the crisis seems to be at hand +this accident occurs. In a most unexpected manner +Jack is instantly divorced from the influences which +have drawn him away from you. The break between +him and Miss Thayer has been accomplished naturally, +and he has been placed in his wife’s hands to be nursed +back to health—during which experience you both will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +come to know each other far better than ever before. +Again I say—I believe I see the hand of Providence in +the whole affair.”</p> + +<p>Helen waited to make quite sure that Uncle Peabody +had finished. “I wonder if it is I who always see things +differently,” she said, “or if a man’s viewpoint is of +necessity different from a woman’s. I love Jack more +than I can ever express—and this accident has brought +that devotion nearer to the surface than I have dared to +let it come for many weeks. I have suffered in seeing +him drawn away from me, and in realizing that I was +becoming less and less essential to his life. Yet, through +it all, I have understood. I have suffered to think +that any other woman could be more to him than I am, +but my love has not blinded my eyes to what I have +actually seen. These are conditions which cannot be +changed, even by this accident. Suppose it does separate +him from all those influences which have brought +about the crisis, as you call it; suppose that because of +this separation, and the physical weakness through which +he must pass, Jack turns to me as before, and for the +time being believes that I am more to him than all else +in the world—will this change the conditions themselves?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that you would not accept this change +in him?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that I would not take advantage of it,” +replied Helen, firmly. “I have seen the development +which has taken place in Jack from the moment of our +first meeting down to the present time. Even with the +sorrow it has cost me I admire that development. Had +I possessed equal possibilities, all would have been well. +As I did not, it would be the act not of love but of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +tyranny to stand between him and his grander +potentiality.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose that as Jack recovers he comes to a +realization that his obsession has been a mistake—that +your love and companionship really mean more to him +than anything he can get elsewhere?”</p> + +<p>“That would be a retrogression, after what I have +seen him pass through. As I just said, if I possessed +the ability to rise to him, what you suggest might be +a possibility; but I would never consent to have him +assume a lower plane than that upon which he belongs +simply that I may retain my claim.”</p> + +<p>Helen rose as she spoke and walked slowly down the +veranda. Uncle Peabody watched her retreating figure, +and studied her face as she returned and leaned against +one of the pillars in silence.</p> + +<p>“Why do you think it would force him to take a lower +plane?” he asked, pointedly.</p> + +<p>Helen turned abruptly and looked at him with an expression +of frank surprise. “Why do I think so?” she +repeated. “What a foolish question!”</p> + +<p>“Still, I ask you for an answer,” Uncle Peabody insisted.</p> + +<p>“Because he is so far ahead of me in every way,” +Helen answered, simply.</p> + +<p>“Suppose this is not true?”</p> + +<p>“But it is.”</p> + +<p>“Why are you so positive?”</p> + +<p>“Because it is quite apparent to every one—to Jack, +to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, and even to myself.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody rose and stood beside her, taking her +face between his hands and looking kindly into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You are not so far behind him as you think,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +said, firmly. “Whatever the distance between you may +have been when you were first married, the trials I have +seen you endure have wrought changes at least as great +as those you have noticed in Jack. You are a brave, +strong woman, Helen, and your development has been +from within outward. I wish I could say as much for +him.”</p> + +<p>“You are trying to give me courage, you dear old +comforter,” Helen replied, unconvinced but with a grateful +smile.</p> + +<p>“I am trying to show you yourself as you really are, +my child,” Uncle Peabody replied, “and to help you to +recognize an act of Providence when one falls your way.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXIV</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Dr. Montgomery’s approximate estimate of +the duration of Armstrong’s delirium proved to +be only a few days shorter than the actual fact. +In less than a week all anxiety regarding any possible +complications was set at rest by the doctor’s report that +his patient was progressing normally and as well as +could be expected. The skull had sustained no injury, +and the brain suffered only from the concussion. The +household became accustomed to the still figure, which +gave evidence of its returning strength only by the increasing +frequency of incoherent ramblings, the voice +developing in firmness as the days progressed.</p> + +<p>Inez was about again by this time, and with sunken +eyes and ashen face shared with Helen the privilege of +watching beside the patient during the last week of his +unconsciousness. But it was a different Inez from the +serious but happy and alert girl who had sat beside +Armstrong in the automobile when it had crashed against +the wall. The burden of bearing her secret alone, during +all these weeks, had been in itself a wearing experience, +but this was as nothing compared with the agony +of soul through which she had since passed. The very +struggle with herself, and the sense of personal sacrifice +she experienced, had previously served in her own mind +to sanctify her affection and to justify its existence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +Now that she had allowed her passion to burst from her +control, all justification was at an end. Her womanhood +and sense of right seemed to separate themselves from +her weaker emotions, and to judge and condemn them +without mitigation.</p> + +<p>It was natural that Helen should attribute her changed +condition to the horror of the accident itself; yet Inez +knew that the scene which was enacted in her mind over +and over again until it almost drove her mad was that +of her own shameless disloyalty. She shuddered as it +returned to her even now while sitting beside Armstrong’s +bed; she shrank from Helen’s sympathetic caress +and her thoughtful solicitude. If she could only +cry out and proclaim to them all the unworthy part +she had performed, she would feel some sense of relief +in the self-abasement it must bring to her.</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s delirious wanderings were a sore trial +to Inez, but she accepted and bore them with the unflinching +courage of an ascetic. The sound of his voice, +the undirected, expressionless gaze of his eyes, the uncertainty +of what each disconnected sentence might call +to mind—all drove fresh barbs into a soul already tortured +by self-condemnation. At first his mind had +seemed to center itself upon his wife and his enforced +separation from her.</p> + +<p>“When it is finished,” he had murmured, tossing from +side to side and finally raising his hand as if reaching +out to some one—“when it is finished she will understand.”</p> + +<p>“She does understand, dear,” Helen had cried out, +seizing his hand and pressing it to her lips; but instantly +he withdrew it, and his words again became incoherent +and meaningless.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> + +<p>At another time, when both Helen and Inez were sitting +near by, his eyes opened, and he seemed to be looking +directly at his wife.</p> + +<p>“She refuses to continue the work, Helen,” he said, +as she sprang to his side, believing that at last his mind +had cleared—“you were quite wrong, do you not see?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked at Inez quickly, noting the swift color +which suffused her pale face, but before a word could +be spoken the invalid had relapsed into his former condition. +Inez made an excuse to escape from the room +for a moment. “You were quite wrong—do you not +see?” she repeated Armstrong’s words to herself. Was +he simply rambling, or had the subject been brought +up for previous discussion? Inez’ conscience, sensitive +from the load already resting upon it, quivered with new +apprehensiveness. Yet Helen’s attitude toward her had +in no way changed—in fact, the awful anxiety of the +first suspense, together with the later mutual responsibilities +which they had shared, had seemed to Inez to +draw them even more closely to each other. She tried +to gain an answer to her inward questionings from +Helen’s face as she re-entered the room, but found +there nothing but cordiality and friendliness.</p> + +<p>“He must be getting nearer and nearer to a return +of consciousness,” Helen had said, quite naturally; “but +how he wanders!” She looked over affectionately to her +husband, still and helpless, but breathing with the steady +regularity of convalescence. “Sometimes it is about +his work at the library—sometimes it is about me. +What agony of spirit he must be passing through if +he realizes any of it!”</p> + +<p>“He loves you, Helen,” Inez cried, impulsively—“he +loves you now, just as he always has!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course.” Helen looked up questioningly from +her fancy work. She was not yet ready to take Inez +into her confidence. “What a strange remark, dear! +Is it not quite natural that my husband should love +me?”</p> + +<p>Helen’s smiling face, as she asked her simple but +disconcerting question, completely unnerved Inez.</p> + +<p>“He has been so worried about the time which his +work compelled him to be away from you,” Inez replied, +at length, trying to conceal her confusion. “He +finished the first draft of the book the day of the accident. +His first thought, after he put down his pen, +was to return to the villa, that he might surprise you at +lunch.”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>!” called Armstrong.</p> + +<p>Helen placed her hand upon his forehead soothingly.</p> + +<p>“I owe it to my wife—” the invalid continued; “but +I shall come back—come back.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, you shall go back,” she answered, quietly, +resting her cheek against his—“you shall go +back.”</p> + +<p>“When it is finished—” Armstrong murmured, again +subsiding into silence.</p> + +<p>So the days passed, one by one, differing little, each +from the other, yet filled with many and conflicting emotions +on the part of the faithful watcher by the bedside. +With all its pain, Helen welcomed this period +during which she could work out her problem with the +unconscious help of the rambling, disconnected sentences +which escaped from her husband’s lips. Sometimes they +were full of tenderness for her; again they were reproaches, +levelled at himself for his neglect; but most +frequently they made reference to his work in some of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +its various stages. Alternately her heart was touched +by his apparent affection for her, and the wound again +torn open by his appeal to or dependence upon Inez. +But through it all came the one conviction, which needed +but this strengthening reassurance to make her determined +path seem certain—that whatever drew him away +from his work and back to her was a sense of duty, and +that alone.</p> + +<p>Helen questioned Dr. Montgomery upon the ordinary +phenomena in cases such as this.</p> + +<p>“His mutterings may be absolutely meaningless,” he +replied to her questions, “or they may be thoughts or +actual repetitions of conversations which he has previously +had.”</p> + +<p>“In the latter case, would he be likely to repeat them +correctly?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, provided he repeats them at all.”</p> + +<p>“And these thoughts or conversations, if correctly +repeated, would presumably indicate his convictions at +the time they occurred?”</p> + +<p>“His convictions at the time they occurred,” Dr. +Montgomery assented; “but their reliability as normal +expressions would depend upon his mental condition +at the time the thoughts occurred or the words were +spoken.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s recovery came unexpectedly, even after +the long days of waiting. The perfect July day was +drawing to a close, and Helen had watched the sinking +sun from the window beside his bed. It was all so beautiful! +The world seemed full of glorious hopefulness +and promise, and her heart filled to overflowing at the +thought that for her, who loved it so, that promise no +longer held good. She turned to the silent figure lying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +upon the bed. Would he ever realize what she had gone +through and must still endure for him? She sank upon +her knees, burying her face in the counterpane, as if to +shut out the overpowering grandeur, which produced so +sad a contrast. Suddenly she felt a hand resting upon +her head, and a voice spoke her name.</p> + +<p>She looked up quickly straight into her husband’s +eyes, now wide open and filled with an expression so full +of love and devotion that her heart sprang forth in eager +response. It was the expression which his face had worn +when she had first confessed her love for him, and the +intervening months, with their brief joy and their long +sorrow, were obliterated on the instant. Once more he +was the devoted, thoughtful, irresistible lover, and Helen +felt the weight of years roll off her tired shoulders, leaving +her the happy, buoyant girl, proud of having won +this strong man’s affection. She gazed at him silently, +fearing lest the eyes close again, and unwilling to lose +a moment of their present significance; but they remained +open.</p> + +<p>“Helen,” Armstrong repeated, still looking intently +at her, “be patient, dear. I know how shamefully I +have neglected you, I know how much I have hurt you; +but my work is nearly finished now. Then, believe me, +all will be as before.”</p> + +<p>The voice was calm and sustained. There was no +hesitation, no rambling. Still, she did not fully comprehend +that he was himself again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear,” she replied, humoring him; “then all +will be as before.”</p> + +<p>He could not see the sharp pain which showed in her +face as she spoke, nor did he realize how her heart wished +that it might be so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I must get up,” he continued, after a moment’s +silence. “What time is it? I shall be late at the +library.”</p> + +<p>“You have finished your work for to-day, Jack,” she +answered, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Have I?” he asked, simply.</p> + +<p>His glance slowly wandered about the room. “Is it +not morning?” he queried, at length.</p> + +<p>“It is afternoon,” she replied, turning toward the +window. “See—the sun is just sinking behind <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San +Miniato</span>.”</p> + +<p>“Afternoon?” he queried, vaguely—“afternoon, and +I still in bed?”</p> + +<p>“You have not been well,” she volunteered, guardedly, +carefully following the doctor’s injunctions. “Don’t +bother now; you will be feeling much better in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“Not well?” Armstrong’s mind was groping around +for some familiar landmark upon which to fasten. “I +was at the library—was it this morning?—<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was +there, Miss Thayer was there—where is Miss Thayer?”</p> + +<p>“She went out only a moment ago. But don’t try +to think about it now. It will be much better for you +to do that later.”</p> + +<p>He weakly acquiesced and closed his eyes, still holding +her hand firmly grasped in his own. The doctor +found him gently sleeping, with Helen watching patiently +beside him, when he entered the room an hour +later.</p> + +<p>She held up her disengaged hand warningly. “He +is himself again,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Good!” replied Dr. Montgomery, with satisfaction. +“Tell me about it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That is splendid,” he said, when she had recounted +the details; “he is progressing famously. You won’t +be able to keep him from questioning, but try to let +the awakening come as gradually as possible.”</p> + +<p>The morning brought renewed strength to the invalid. +The nurse called Helen as soon as Armstrong wakened, +and he plied her with countless interrogations. Uncle +Peabody came in to see him immediately after a light +breakfast had been served, but Inez, upon one pretext +or another, delayed entering the sick-room.</p> + +<p>“It will be better for him to become accustomed to +his new conditions,” she urged, when Helen suggested +her going to see him. “You and Mr. Cartwright should +have these first moments with him. Later I shall be +only too glad to help in any way I can.”</p> + +<p>But Armstrong himself was not to be denied.</p> + +<p>“There is more to all this than you are telling me,” +he said, petulantly, at last, after learning from Helen +and Uncle Peabody such details as he could draw forth +regarding the duration of his illness and its general +nature. “I remember now leaving the library in the +motor-car with Miss Thayer. We went—where did we +go? Oh yes; to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">San Domenico</span>. Then we came home. +Did we come home?” he asked, with uncertainty in his +voice; but before an answer could be given he had himself +supplied the connecting link.</p> + +<p>“I have it!” he cried, raising himself upon his elbow—“there +was an accident. Alfonse tried to take that +turn at the foot of the hill, and we smashed against the +wall.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Helen assented, trying to calm his rising excitement, +“there was an accident, and you were badly +hurt; but you are nearly well now. Please go slowly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +Jack, or you will undo all that your long rest has accomplished. +There is plenty of time.”</p> + +<p>“But Miss Thayer,” he replied, not heeding her admonition +and glancing about searchingly. “Where is +Miss Thayer? She was injured, too?”</p> + +<p>“Not seriously,” Helen reassured him.</p> + +<p>“Then where is she?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know exactly, but she is not far away.”</p> + +<p>“You have not sent her away while I have been ill?” +he asked, with a touch of his former suspicion.</p> + +<p>“No, Jack.” All of the tired, strained tone came +back in Helen’s voice as she turned away from the bed +to conceal her disappointment.</p> + +<p>Armstrong sensed it all as he had failed to do at other +times since the gap had begun to widen.</p> + +<p>“I did not mean that, Helen,” he said, and reaching +over he took her hand and drew her to him; “I really +did not mean it.”</p> + +<p>“It is all right, Jack,” Helen replied, withdrawing +her hand and trying to smile; “I will find Inez and +send her to you.” And before he could remonstrate +she had left the room.</p> + +<p>While he waited Armstrong had a brief moment of +introspection. Again he had wounded her, and for no +cause. He had enjoyed the short period since his +awakening, particularly on account of the tender and +affectionate care Helen had given him, which she had +for a long time withheld because of his own self-centred +interest. It was with real regret that he found this +little visit with his wife so abruptly brought to an end, +yet he himself had forced the termination. He must +fight against this unfortunate attribute, he told himself, +and show Helen his real feelings toward her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>His reveries were interrupted by Inez’ entrance. Silently +she stood beside him, holding out her hand, which +he quietly grasped for a moment and then released. He +wondered at the color in her face and at her apparent +unwillingness to meet his glance.</p> + +<p>“They tell me we have been through an accident together,” +he said, slowly. “Thank God it was I who +was injured and not you.”</p> + +<p>Inez turned from him, closing her eyes involuntarily. +“Don’t speak of it!” she cried, impulsively; “it was too +awful!”</p> + +<p>“But it is all over now.”</p> + +<p>“All but the memory,” she replied, faintly. “Let us +forget it, I beg of you.”</p> + +<p>“I was going to ask you for some of the details,” +Armstrong continued, “which you alone can give.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I beg of you,” she repeated; “I could not +bear it.”</p> + +<p>“Then by all means let us forget it,” he replied, +curiously affected by the girl’s emotion. “Perhaps some +time later you will feel more like talking about it. You +see, I can remember nothing after the crash against the +wall.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” cried Inez, passionately, turning +away her head.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is better so,” Armstrong assented, still +wondering at the intensity of her emotion. “But when +one has had a whole fortnight of his life blotted out, he +naturally feels a bit of curiosity concerning what happened +during all that time.”</p> + +<p>“You must excuse me, Mr. Armstrong. You don’t +know how this tortures me, and I really cannot bear +it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + +<p>Armstrong watched the girl as she turned and fairly +fled from the room, completely mystified by her extraordinary +attitude.</p> + +<p>“What in the world can have happened?” he asked +himself; and then he settled back on the pillow and tried +to answer his own question.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXV</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>There is no place like the sick-room for self-examination +and introspection. In the still monotony +of the slow-passing days, the invalid’s mind is freed +from the conventions of every-day complexities, and can +view its problems with a veracity and a clearness at other +times impossible. As Armstrong’s convalescence continued, +he marshalled before him certain events which +had occurred since his arrival in Florence, and examined +them with great minuteness. Some of these seemed +trivial, and he wondered why they came back at this +time and forced themselves upon him with such persistence; +some of them were important, and he realized +that Helen had much of which she might justly complain.</p> + +<p>His eyes followed her as she moved about the room, +quick to anticipate each wish or necessity, and sweetly +eager to respond; yet he distinctly felt the barrier between +them. He was conscious now that this barrier +had existed for some time, and he found it difficult to +explain to himself why he had only recently become +aware of it. Helen’s conversations with him came back +with renewed force and vital meaning. He had resented +it when she had told him that his work at the library +had made him indifferent to everything else, yet she +had been quite right in what she said. He had wilfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +misunderstood her efforts to bring him back to himself, +and had openly blamed her for faults which existed +only in his own neglect. He had accused her of being +jealous of his intimacy with Miss Thayer, yet her +attitude toward Inez was a constant refutation. He +had treated her even with incivility and unpardonable +irritability.</p> + +<p>The fault was his, he admitted, yet were there not +extenuating circumstances? No one could have foreseen +how completely engrossed he was to become in his +work, or the extent of the mastery which the spell of +this old-time learning was to gain over him. Naturally, +he would have avoided it had he foreseen it; but once +under its influence he had been carried forward irresistibly, +unable to withdraw, unwilling to oppose. +And yet he had boasted of his strength!</p> + +<p>“You have become infinitely bigger and stronger and +grander,” Helen had said to him, even when her heart +was breaking, “and I admire you just so much the +more.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong winced as these words came home to him. +With so much real cause for complaint and upbraiding, +Helen had gently tried to show him his shortcomings, +tempering her comment with expressions full of loyalty +and affection.</p> + +<p>But on one point she had been wholly wrong. It was +natural that she should have misinterpreted the intimacy +which a community of interests had brought about between +Miss Thayer and himself. Inez was, of course, +much stronger intellectually than Helen, and by reason +of this was far better fitted to assist him in his own intellectual +expressions. But their intimacy had never +extended beyond this even in thought or suggestion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +Helen had insisted that Inez was in love with him, and +he had tried to show her the absurdity of her suspicion. +Here, at least, he had been in the right. Throughout +their close association, and even after Helen had spoken, +he had never discovered the slightest evidence that any +such affection existed. The still unexplained remarks +of the contessa’s might or might not be significant. +Emory, of course, was prejudiced, and his comments +did not require serious consideration. Miss Thayer’s +refusal to continue the work, the comparative infrequency +of her visits to his sick-chamber—in fact, everything +went to show how far Helen had wandered from +the actual facts.</p> + +<p>Armstrong found some comfort in this conclusion. +With Helen so unquestionably wrong in this hypothesis, +it of course went without saying that she was equally +wrong in what she had said later. She believed that +he had a career before him. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> had said the same +thing, Miss Thayer had said so—and Armstrong himself +believed, in the consciousness of having completed +an unusual piece of work, that such a possibility might +exist. He felt no conceit, but rather that overpowering +sense of hopefulness which comes to a man as a result +of successful endeavor—not yet crowned, but completed +to his own satisfaction. If this career was to be his, +he could not follow Helen’s assumption that it must +separate them. That was, of course, as ridiculous as +her feelings about Inez. Success for him must mean +the same to her, his wife. When the right time came +he would take up these two points specifically with her +and show her the error which had misled her.</p> + +<p>This self-examination covered several days. At first +Armstrong found himself unable to think long at a time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +without becoming mentally wearied; but by degrees his +mind gained in vigor, and proved fully equal to the demands +made upon it. The details of what had happened +on the day of the accident came back to him one by one +up to the point of the accident itself, but he felt annoyed +that he could not learn more of this. From Helen, +Uncle Peabody, and the doctor he knew of the early belief +that he had been killed and of the excitement caused +by his revived respiration. Of his period of delirium, +the nurse had given him more information than the +others; but of the break between the moment when the +car struck the wall, and the time when Helen arrived +upon the scene, Miss Thayer alone held the key. Armstrong’s +curiosity regarding this interval was, perhaps, +heightened by the evident aversion which she felt to discussing +it. To mention the subject in her presence was +certain to drive her from the room, her face blazing +with color, her body trembling in every nerve.</p> + +<p>The patient was able to move about a little by this +time, and at the close of each day he found relief from +the monotony of his room and the veranda by short +walks in the garden, rich in its midsummer gorgeousness +of color. A couch had been placed near the retaining +wall, so that he could rest upon it whenever he felt +fatigued. Between his solicitude concerning the situation +with Helen, and his determination to discover from +Miss Thayer the occasion of her remarkable attitude, +his thoughts were fully occupied.</p> + +<p>On this particular afternoon Armstrong had thrown +himself upon the couch, and for a moment closed his +eyes. With no warning he saw a scene enacted before +his mental vision in which he himself was the central +figure. He was lying still and lifeless upon the grass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +by the roadside at the foot of the hill. Four other +figures were in the picture. He recognized Inez, but +the other women and the boy he had never seen. The +figures moved about, as in a kinetoscope. One of the +women ran into the cottage and returned with a basin +of water. Inez knelt beside him and bathed his forehead. +He could see the tense expression on her face. She +seemed to speak to the women, but he could distinguish +no words. Then he saw himself lifted and carried into +the cottage. At this point the picture disappeared as +suddenly as it had come.</p> + +<p>Armstrong opened his eyes when he found the picture +gone, and sat up, gazing about him excitedly. He saw +Inez crossing the veranda and called to her abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” he cried, as she hastened to obey the summons +and before she reached him, “who carried me into +the cottage after the accident?”</p> + +<p>The girl paled at the suddenness and intensity of the +question. “There were four of us,” she said, faintly—“two +peasant women, a boy, and myself.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong passed his hand over his forehead and +gazed at Inez intently. So far, then, his vision had been +correct. Breathlessly he pursued his interrogations.</p> + +<p>“Before that did one of the women bring some water +from the cottage, and did you kneel beside me and bathe +my face?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Who has told you?”</p> + +<p>“Then it all happened just like that?”</p> + +<p>“Like what?” Inez was trembling, vaguely apprehensive.</p> + +<p>Armstrong rose. “Why, as you have just said,” he +replied. “You know I have been trying to get you to +tell me about it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You are unkind,” Inez retorted, quickly. “You +know how much all mention of this pains me, yet you +persist.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me.” Armstrong controlled himself and +held out his hand kindly. “I don’t mean to hurt you, +believe me, but my mind is ever searching out that connecting +link. You won’t tell me about it, so I suppose +I shall never find it.”</p> + +<p>She started to reply, but as quickly checked herself. +“There is nothing for me to tell,” she said, at length, +without looking up. “I will send Helen to you,” she +added, as she hastened away.</p> + +<p>Armstrong again threw himself upon the couch, and, +trying to assume the same position, closed his eyes in a +vain endeavor to summon back the vision he had seen. +If it had only continued a little longer he might have +learned all! The fugitive nature of his quest proved a +fascination, and day after day he exerted every effort +to gratify his whim.</p> + +<p>Inez clearly avoided him. Whether or not this was +apparent to the other members of the family he could +not tell, but it was quite obvious to him. There must +be some reason beyond what he knew, and he had almost +stumbled upon it! Another week passed by, more +rapidly than any since his convalescence began because +of the determination with which he pursued his baffling +problem.</p> + +<p>Again he lay upon his couch in the garden, his eyes +closed, but with his mind fixed upon its one desire. Suddenly +he felt the presence of some one. A thrill of expectation +passed through him, but he dared not open +his eyes lest the impression should disappear. For what +seemed a long time he was conscious of this person standing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +beside him, and he knew that whoever it might be +was gazing at him intently. Then he felt a hand gently +take his arm, which was hanging over the side of +the couch, and, raising it carefully, place it in a more +comfortable position. Then the hand rested for a +moment on his forehead.</p> + +<p>Opening his eyes a little, as if by intuition, he saw +Miss Thayer tiptoeing along the path toward the house. +He closed his eyes again, and as he did so he felt a sudden +return of the subconscious impression.</p> + +<p>Now, in his mind’s eye he saw a cheaply furnished +room, and Miss Thayer leaning, with ashen face and +dishevelled hair, against a closed door. He saw her +sink upon the floor and pass through a paroxysm of +grief. She murmured some incoherent words, and then +stood erect, looking straight at him as he lay upon the +bed. Then she lifted his arm, just as she had a moment +before, and covered his hand with kisses, sobbing +the while with no attempt at control.</p> + +<p>“Speak to me!” he seemed to hear her say. “Tell +me that you are not dead!” He could feel the intensity +of her gaze even as he lay there. “Jack, my beloved; +you are mine, dear—do you hear?—and I am yours.” +Beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead. “How +I have loved you all these weeks!... Now I can tell +you of it, dear—it will do no harm!”</p> + +<p>Held by a force he could not have broken had he +wished, Armstrong watched the progress of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>“My darling, my beloved!” he heard Inez whisper; +“open your eyes just once, and tell me that I may call +you mine if only for this one terrible moment.... This +is our moment, dear—no one can take it from +us!... Have you not seen how I have loved you, how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +I have struggled to keep you from knowing it?... Jack! +Jack! this is the beginning and the end!”</p> + +<p>He could endure the scene no longer. With a look +of horror on his face, he sprang to his feet and glanced +about him. He was alone in the garden. He stumbled +rather than walked to the retaining wall, and rested +against it for support.</p> + +<p>“Great God!” he cried, aloud, “have I regained my +mind only to lose it again?”</p> + +<p>He glanced toward the house. There was no one in +sight, but Helen was playing Debussy’s “<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Claire de +Lune</span>” upon the piano in the hall, and the sound of the +music soothed him.</p> + +<p>“Dreams—hallucinations,” he repeated to himself. +“God! what an experience!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXVI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>With Armstrong’s convalescence progressing so +satisfactorily, Helen returned to her music with +a clear conscience. She was determined that +the influence upon him of her personal presence should +be reduced as nearly as possible to a minimum. Naturally, +during the period of his illness and the attendant +weakness, she had been with him almost constantly; +naturally he had turned to her with what seemed to be +his former affection. But the die was cast, and the accident +which for the time being interrupted the progress +of events predestined to occur could in no way prevent +their final accomplishment. Helen thought often of +Uncle Peabody’s optimistic suggestion that the present +condition was bound to straighten matters out, but +she refused to be buoyed up by false hopes, only to +suffer a harder blow when once again Armstrong became +what she believed to be himself. She saw no gain +in tuning up the heart-strings to their former pitch, +when neither she nor Jack could again play upon them +with any degree of harmony.</p> + +<p>Helen was with her husband for whatever portion of +the day he needed her, whether it was to read aloud to +him, or to converse, or to wander about the garden. +She served each meal to him with her own hands, and +watched the progress of his improvement so carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +that nothing remained undone. Yet, with deliberate intention, +she was with him no more than this. Whenever +she found him interested in something or with some one +who engaged his attention for the time being, she slipped +away so quietly that he scarcely noticed it and devoted +herself to her own interests, which she was desperately +trying to make fill the void in her life. Her music was +her greatest solace, for in it she found a response to +her every mood. In the dim-lit hall of the villa she +sat for hours at the piano, her fingers running over the +keys, her mind pondering upon her complex problem—each +action apparently separated from the other, yet in +exact accord. Sometimes it was a nocturne of Chopin’s, +sometimes an impromptu of Schubert’s; but always she +found in the unspoken, poetic expression of the composer’s +soul an answering sympathy which was lacking +in other forms more tangible.</p> + +<p>Inez interrupted one of these communions, when Helen +supposed herself alone with Debussy. Lately she had +found herself turning to the charm and mystery of his +atmosphere, the strangeness of his idiom, the vagueness +of his rhythms, and the fugitive grace and fancy of his +harmonic expression with an understanding and a surrender +which she had never before felt. The music reflected +upon her its delicate perception of nature in +all its moods—the splash of the waves upon the shore, +the roaring of the surf, the gloom of the forests relieved +by the moonlight on the trees.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, Helen—I beg of you!” Inez exclaimed, suddenly. +“Say it to me, but don’t torture me with those +weird reproaches. Every note almost drives me wild!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Inez, dear!” cried Helen, startled by the girl’s +words no less than by the suddenness of the interruption.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +“What in the world do you mean? You should have +told me before if my playing affected you so.”</p> + +<p>“I love it, Helen,” she replied; “but lately it has +hurt me through and through. I can hear your voice +echoing in every note you strike, and I feel its bitter +reproach.”</p> + +<p>Helen tried to draw Inez beside her, but the girl sank +upon the floor, resting her elbows on Helen’s knees and +looking up into her face with tense earnestness.</p> + +<p>“You have been terribly unstrung these days, dear,” +Helen replied, “and you are unstrung now or you would +not discover what does not exist. It is your instinctive +sympathy for poor <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mélisande</span> that makes you feel so—you +see her, as I do, floating resistlessly over the terraces +and fountains, the plaything of Fate, a phantom of +love and longing and uncertainty. That is what you +feel, dear.”</p> + +<p>Helen took Inez’ face between her hands and looked +into her eyes for a moment. “People call it mystical +and unreal,” she continued, “but I believe that some of +us have it in our own lives, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Inez did not reply directly, and struggled to escape +the searching gaze.</p> + +<p>“Helen,” she said, abruptly, “I simply cannot stay +on here; I shall go mad if I do. Each time I suggest +going you say that you need me, and it seems ungrateful, +after all you have done for me, to speak as I do. +But you cannot understand. I am not myself, and I +am getting into a condition which will make me a burden +to you instead of a help.”</p> + +<p>“I do need you, dear,” Helen replied, quietly, “but +certainly not at the expense either of your health or +your happiness. The effects of the accident have lasted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +much longer than I thought they would. I wanted you +to be quite recovered before you left us.”</p> + +<p>“If the accident were all!” moaned Inez, burying her +face in Helen’s lap.</p> + +<p>Helen made no response, but laid her hand kindly +upon Inez’ head. After a few moments the girl straightened +up. Her eyes burned with the intensity of her +sudden resolve, and she spoke rapidly, as if fearful that +her courage would prove insufficient for the task she had +set for herself to do.</p> + +<p>“Helen!” she cried, “I am going to tell you something +which will make you hate me. You will want me +to leave you, and our friendship will be forever ended.”</p> + +<p>“Wait, dear,” urged Helen—“wait until you are +calmer; then, if you choose, tell me all that you have in +your heart.”</p> + +<p>“No; I must tell you now. I love Jack, Helen—do +you understand? I love your husband, and, fight it as +I do, I cannot help it. Think of having to make a confession +like that!”</p> + +<p>Helen’s face lighted up with glad relief.</p> + +<p>“I am so glad that you have told me this,” she said, +quietly.</p> + +<p>Inez gazed at Helen in wonder, amazed by her calmness +and her unexpected words.</p> + +<p>“But I must tell you more,” she continued, wildly; +“I have loved him for weeks—almost since I first came +here!”</p> + +<p>“I know you have, Inez.” Helen pressed a kiss upon +the girl’s forehead. “I have known it for a long time; +but I have also seen your struggle against it, and your +loyalty to me—and to him.”</p> + +<p>“You have known it?” Inez asked, faintly. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +her voice strengthened again. “But you have not known +all! I did fight against it, as you say, and I was loyal +until”—her voice broke for a moment—“until that day +of the accident—in the cottage—I thought him dead—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” encouraged Helen, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Until then I was loyal, but when I was alone with +him, and thought him dead, I—oh, Helen, you will hate +me as I hate myself—then I kissed him, and I told him +of my love, and I—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, dear,” Helen interrupted, her voice +full of tenderness. “No one can blame you for what +you did under such awful circumstances. I suspected +what had happened when I found you where you had +fainted across his body. But you can’t imagine how +glad I am that you have told me all this. I felt sure +you would, some day.”</p> + +<p>“You will let me go now, won’t you? You can see +how impossible it is for me to stay.”</p> + +<p>“I need you now more than ever,” replied Helen, +firmly. “If you insist on leaving I shall not urge you +to stay, but even you—knowing what you do—cannot +know how much I need you.”</p> + +<p>“How did you know?” Inez asked, weakly.</p> + +<p>“From what Ferdy said first, then from what I saw +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you not send me away, then?”</p> + +<p>“I had no right to do so, Inez.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you were perfectly sure of Jack.”</p> + +<p>Helen winced. “Yes,” she replied, quietly; “I was +sure of Jack.”</p> + +<p>“But you understand now that I really cannot +stay?”</p> + +<p>“Jack needs you still.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No; his manuscript is complete. He will not need +me for the revision.”</p> + +<p>“You would stay if he did?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then if you would stay if he needed you, surely you +will do the same for me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Helen!”</p> + +<p>“Will you? When Jack is quite himself again I +will urge no longer. Now that you have told me this, +it will be easier for you. Will you not do this for +me?”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing I would not do for you, Helen!” +cried Inez, throwing her arms impulsively around her +friend’s neck and kissing her passionately. “You are +so strong you make me more ashamed than ever of my +own weakness.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, dear,” Helen replied, simply, returning +her embrace; “but don’t make any mistake about +my strength. It is because I lack it so sadly that I ask +you to stay.”</p> + +<p class="r3">Dr. Montgomery found Armstrong’s temperature considerably +higher when he called later in the day, after +the disquieting mental experience his patient had passed +through. Armstrong also appeared to be preoccupied, +and more interested in asking questions than in answering +them. For the first time he seemed to be curious in +regard to the nature of his illness.</p> + +<p>“In a case like mine, is it possible for the mental convalescence +to be retarded or to go backward?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Dr. Montgomery replied, “it is possible, but +hardly probable, especially with a patient who has +progressed so normally as you have.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It is normal for the memory to have a complete +lapse, as in my case?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely so.”</p> + +<p>“Is it possible for a knowledge of the events which +occurred during such a lapse to be restored—say, weeks +afterward?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; under certain conditions.”</p> + +<p>“And those conditions are?” asked Armstrong, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>The doctor settled back in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Let me see if I can make it clear to you: all memories +are permanent—that is to say, every event makes +a distinct, even though it may be an unconscious, impression +upon the brain. Sometimes these memories +remain dormant for months, or even years, before something +occurs to bring them to mind; but even before +this the memories are there, just the same.”</p> + +<p>“But you are speaking of every-day occurrences, are +you not? My question is whether or not it might be +possible for me, for example, to have a reviving knowledge +of certain events which took place during a period +of apparent unconsciousness.”</p> + +<p>“I understand. Yes, it would be quite possible for +this to happen.”</p> + +<p>“What would be necessary to bring it about?”</p> + +<p>Dr. Montgomery smiled at his patient’s earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Are you so eager to recall that period? But the +question is a fair one. Some incident must take place +similar to something which occurred during the unconscious +period in order to revive the dormant memory. +I doubt if you could do it deliberately.”</p> + +<p>“I have no intention of trying,” Armstrong replied; +“but I am interested in this particular phase of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +case. Suppose, during the apparently unconscious period, +some one had lifted my arm or placed a hand upon +my forehead—would the same act be enough to restore +the dormant memory, as you call it?”</p> + +<p>“Quite enough—though it would not necessarily do +so. I have known several cases where the repetition of +such an act has produced just the result which you describe.”</p> + +<p>“And these revived impressions are apt to be trustworthy?”</p> + +<p>“As a photographic plate,” replied the doctor, emphatically.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was silent for some moments.</p> + +<p>“It is an interesting phase, as you say,” he remarked, +at length. “I think I may try the experiment, after +all.”</p> + +<p>“The chances will be against you; but I imagine you +have been pretty well informed of what has happened. +Don’t try to think too hard. It will be all the better +for you to give your brain a little rest; it has had a +hard shaking-up.”</p> + +<p>So this was the solution of the mystery for which +he had sought so long! Armstrong found himself in +a curious position after the doctor took his departure, +leaving behind him a new knowledge of affairs which, +six hours before, his patient would have considered absolutely +preposterous. Helen was right, and had been +right from the beginning. His one consolation was removed, +and in its place was a complication which seemed +past straightening out. To the blame which Armstrong +had already taken to himself on Helen’s account, he +must now add the responsibility of having inspired this +sentiment in Inez’ heart, which meant unhappiness to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +all. Even though this had been done unconsciously, he +told himself, it was no less culpable in that he had not +himself discovered the situation and checked it before +any serious harm had been done. Helen had seen it, +the contessa had seen it, and he wondered how many +others. He had been blind in this, criminally blind, and +now he must pay the penalty.</p> + +<p>But this penalty could not be borne by him alone—he +could see that clearly. Helen and Inez were both +hopelessly involved. And what a woman his wife had +shown herself to be! Knowing of this affection on the +part of Inez, she had suffered them to continue together +in order that his work might not be disturbed. She had +told him just how matters stood—not with recriminations, +but with loving solicitude, offering to sacrifice +herself, if necessary, to secure his happiness, drinking +her cup of sorrow to the dregs, and alone! It was plain +enough to him now. He thought of Helen as she was +when they first came to Florence, and compared her +with the Helen of to-day. He had brought about that +change; he alone was responsible for it. She had craved +the present, with its sunshine, its birds, its happiness, +and instead of all this he had filled it for her with nothing +but sorrow and suffering! He merited the scoring +Emory gave him, even though the denunciation had gone +too far.</p> + +<p>As the bandage fell from his eyes, the character which +he had assumed during these past months stood out clearly +before him, shorn of its academic halo, and pitiful in +its unfulfilled ideals. He had sought to join that company +of humanists who had awakened the world to the +joy and beauty of intellectual attainment. He had believed +himself worthy of this honor, in that he believed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +he had understood and sympathized with their underlying +motives. So he had in principle, but how wofully +he had failed in his efforts to carry them out! Instead +of assimilating the happy youthfulness of the Greek, together +with the Grecian harmony of existence, he had +developed his morbid self-centering and self-consciousness. +His blind, unreasoning devotion to his single interest +had resulted in folly and fanaticism. He had +overlooked the cardinal element in the humanistic creed +that knowledge without love meant death and isolation. +Instead of singling out and joining together the beauties +for which humanism stood, he had embraced and +emphasized its limitations.</p> + +<p>“I am an impostor!” Armstrong exclaimed, no longer +able to endure his mental lashing in silence—“an arrant +impostor! I have set myself up as a modern apostle, +I have written platitudes upon intellectual supremacy +and the religion of knowledge, when the one single personal +attribute to which I can justly lay claim is insufferable +academic arrogance. I have seized a half-truth +and fortified it with fact; and in accomplishing +this stupendous piece of fatuous nonsense I have stultified +myself and destroyed the happiness of all!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXVII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Armstrong’s first act, on the following day, was +to send to the library for his manuscript. Helen +looked upon this as an evidence that with his returning +strength had also come a return of his all-controlling +passion. This was a natural explanation of the +peculiar change which she had noticed in him during the +past few days, and his request fitted in so perfectly with +a conversation between Uncle Peabody and herself the +evening before that she almost unconsciously exchanged +with him a glance of mutual understanding.</p> + +<p>But the real motive was quite at variance with her +interpretation. Armstrong had passed through his period +of introspection without taking any one into his confidence. +Fierce as the struggle had been, he felt instinctively +that his only chance of restoring conditions +to anything which even approached equilibrium was to +make no new false step. He had come to certain definite +conclusions, but was still undecided as to the proper +methods to be adopted in his attempt to turn these conclusions +into realities.</p> + +<p>First of all, he had placed himself in an entirely false +position with Helen. He had given her cause to believe +him indifferent and neglectful. This, at least, he +argued, could be remedied, even though it was now too +late to spare her the suffering through which she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +passed. But he could explain it all, and by his future +devotion to her, and to those interests of which she was +a part, he could make her forget the past.</p> + +<p>With Miss Thayer the proposition was a different +one. To her he had done an injury which could not be +repaired. He had sought to take her with him into a +world full of those possibilities which the intellectual +alone can comprehend. Instead of leaving her there, +inspired by the wisdom of such an intercourse, he had—unconsciously +but still culpably—developed in her an +interest in himself. The problem was to extricate her +and himself from this compromising situation without +destroying all future self-respect for them both; and the +solution of it seemed far beyond his reach.</p> + +<p>And besides all this, there was the manuscript. Despite +his best endeavor, he could not recall even an outline +of what he had written. After a full realization +came to him of the extent to which he had misunderstood +and misconstrued the basic principles of humanism itself, +his interest in his work became one of curiosity to +learn by actual examination how far he had accepted the +half-truths, and how far he had wandered from the path +which he had thought he knew so well. The whole volume +must be filled with absurd theories, falsely conceived +and as falsely expressed. He must go over it, page by +page, and learn from it the bitter fact of his unworthiness +to stand as the modern expounder of those great +minds whose influence alone should have been enough to +hold him to his appointed course.</p> + +<p>When the manuscript arrived he devoted himself to it +with an eagerness which added to the natural misunderstanding +of his motive. With no word of comment, he +took the package to his room, where, after bolting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +door, he opened it and applied himself to his task. +Hours passed by, but he refused to be interrupted. +Helen tried to persuade him to come down-stairs for +luncheon, but he begged to be excused. Uncle Peabody +calmed her anxiety; so the day passed, leaving him alone +with his burdens.</p> + +<p>Armstrong approached his manuscript with bitterness +of spirit. This was the tangible form of that inexplicable +force which had drawn him away from those ties which +stood to him for all future peace and serenity; this had +been the medium which had fostered the new affection +so fraught with sorrow and even danger; this was the +proof of his absolute lack of harmony with those noble +principles which he still felt, when rightly expressed, +represented the highest possibilities of life itself. At +first he hesitated to read it, dreading what it must disclose. +Then he attacked it fiercely, passing from page +to page with feverish intensity.</p> + +<p>As he read, his bitterness and dread disappeared, and +in their place came first surprise and then amazement. +Was this his manuscript? Had he written these pages +in which the real, wholesome, glorious spirit of past +attainment and present possibilities fairly lived and +breathed! His amazement turned into absolute mystification. +He read of the important movement which +liberated the rich humanities of Greece and Rome from +the proscription of the Church; he saw literature itself +expand in subject and in quantity; he himself felt the +sundering of the bonds of ignorance, superstition, and +tradition which had previously confined intellectual life +on all sides.</p> + +<p>Surely this was a simple yet sane presentation of the +subject, Armstrong said to himself, as it had formulated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +itself in words after his long study. His error must lie +in his application of it to the people. The manuscript +unfolded rapidly under his eager inspection. It told +him of the great step forward when writing changed +to printing. He followed the convincing argument that +this new art from its earliest beginnings was to be identical +with that of culture, and a faithful index to the standards +of the ages to come. It told him that the advent +of the printing-press made men think, and gave them +the opportunity of studying description and argument +where previously they had merely gazed at pictorial +design. He could see the development of the people +under this new influence, growing strong in self-reliance, +and confident in their increasing power.</p> + +<p>He found himself unable to condemn his work thus +far. In application, as in definition, what he had written +seemed to ring true. Later on he must find expressions +of those distorted ideals in the manuscript, just +as he had found them in himself. With increasing interest +he read of the benefits these people of the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">quattrocento</i> +reaped from the principles of Grecian civilization, +now tempered by the inevitable filtering through the +great minds of a century. With no uncertain note the +manuscript portrayed the efforts made by this people +to reach the unattainable, refusing to be bound down by +limited ideals, and creating masterpieces in every art +which expressed in the highest form the ethical spirit of +the period.</p> + +<p>The pages still turned rapidly. At times Armstrong +became so absorbed that he forgot himself and the fact +that he was analyzing the outpouring of his own soul. +Then he recalled the present and the problem before +him. He could not comprehend that this work was his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +own; he did not remember writing it; he was ignorant of +the particular study or reasoning which had brought +it forth. But there the words stood, in his own handwriting, +a visible evidence of something which had +actually taken place.</p> + +<p>As the reading progressed, he became more and more +bewildered. It was direct and convincing. The subject +was handled with restraint, and yet he felt the force +behind each sentence. Suddenly his eye fell upon this +paragraph:</p> + +<p>“After giving due credit to humanism for its vast +contribution to the arts and to literature, there yet remains +to acknowledge the greatest debt of all: it taught +man to hold himself open to truth from every side, +and so to assimilate it that it became a part of his +very life itself. Thus making himself inclusive of +all about him, his attitude toward his fellow-man +could not be other than sympathetic and appreciative.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong read this over a second time, and, bending +forward, he rested his head upon his hands in the midst +of the sheets of manuscript and groaned aloud. This +was his acknowledgment of the great lesson of humanism, +and yet he had not applied it to his own every-day +life! “It taught man to hold himself open to truth +from every side,” he repeated to himself. “Thus making +himself inclusive of all about him, his attitude toward +his fellow-man could not be other than sympathetic +and appreciative.”</p> + +<p>At length he raised his head, and, rising wearily, he +walked to the window, drawing in the refreshing air. +The strain had been intense, and he found himself utterly +exhausted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I see it all,” he said, bitterly; “the fault is not with +the book or with the principles themselves—it is with +me! I have written better than I knew; I have preached +where I have not practised. Oh, Helen—oh, Inez! Can +I ever undo the wrong I have done you both!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXVIII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>It was several days before Armstrong found himself +ready to take up the unravelling of the thread. The +shuttle had moved to and fro so silently, and its web +was woven with so intricate a pattern, that he felt the +hopelessness even of finding an end of the yarn, where +he might begin his work. He watched the two girls in +their every-day life as they moved about him; he studied +them carefully, he compared their personal characteristics. +Both were greatly changed. Miss Thayer continued +ill at ease and unlike her former self in her relations +to Helen and Uncle Peabody as well as toward +himself. He felt that now he understood the reason; and +beyond this it was natural that she should miss the absorbing +interest which the work had given her, coming, +as it did, to so abrupt an end and leaving nothing which +could take its place.</p> + +<p>But Helen had changed more. The girlish vivacity +which had previously characterized her had disappeared, +and in its place had come a quiet, reposeful dignity +which, while it made her seem an older woman, would +have appealed to him as wonderfully becoming save for +the restraint which accompanied it. She held herself absolutely +in hand. Her every action, while considerate +in its relation to others, admitted of no denial. Armstrong +felt instinctively rather than because of anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +which had happened that were their wills to clash now +hers would prove the stronger. There had been a development +in her far beyond anything he had realized.</p> + +<p>Comparing the two, as he had ample opportunity to +do, he wondered if he had made a fair estimate of her +strength in his previous considerations. Helen had considered +herself unfitted to enter into his work with him. +She had frankly stated her unwillingness to go back into +the past, and to live among its memories, when the present +offered an alternative which was to her so much more +attractive. Inez seized with avidity the opportunity he +offered, and had entered into his work with an enthusiasm +second only to his own. Suppose Helen had done +this, Armstrong asked himself. With her characteristics, +as he was only now coming to understand them, +she would not long have remained content to act as his +agent—she would have become a definite part of the +work herself, and would have helped to shape it, instead +of yielding more and more to his own personality. Inez +had helped him much, and his obligation to her was not +overlooked; but he could see how this helpfulness had +lessened, day by day, as her intellect had become subservient +to his own. He had been glad of this at the +time, but now he found himself asking whether Helen +would not have shown greater strength under the same +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Since his accident the contrast had been greater. +Helen had assumed definite control over everything. +Inez, Uncle Peabody, Armstrong himself recognized in +her, without expression, the acknowledged and undisputed +head of affairs. It had all come about so naturally, +and Helen herself seemed so unconscious of it, +that he could not explain it. On the other hand, Inez<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +had completely lost her nerve. The crisis through which +the two girls had passed had produced upon them vastly +differing effects, and Armstrong could not fail to be +impressed by the result of his observations.</p> + +<p>Finally he determined to talk the matter over with +Helen, and here again he found himself counting upon +her assistance in straightening things out with Inez. +Had he realized it, this was the first time in his life +that he had admitted even to himself that any one could +aid him in any matter which he could not personally +control. Dimly, it is true, but still definitely, he was +conscious that he was making an unusual admission, yet +he experienced a certain amount of gratification in doing +so.</p> + +<p>Helen had been reading aloud to him while he reclined +upon his couch in a shady corner of the veranda. +For some moments he had heard nothing of the spoken +words, for his eyes, resting fixedly upon his wife’s face, +revealed to him a more impressive story than that contained +within the printed volume. How beautiful she +was! The clear-cut profile; the long lashes hiding from +him the deep, responsive eyes, whose sympathy he well +knew; the soft, sweet voice which fell upon his ear with +soothing cadence; the whole harmonious bearing, indicative +of a character well defined, yet unconscious of its +strength—all combined to show him at a single glance +how rare a woman she really was. As he watched her +the definition which he himself had written came back +to him with tremendous force. “It taught man to hold +himself open to truth from every side. Thus making +himself inclusive of all about him, his attitude toward his +fellow-man could not be other than sympathetic and appreciative.” +What man or woman had he ever known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +who so truly lived up to this high standard as this girl +who sat beside him, all unconscious of the tumult raging +in his mind?</p> + +<p>Then the storm passed from his brain to his heart. +His affection, intensified by the struggles he had experienced, +overpowered him, and he cried aloud in a voice +which startled Helen by the suddenness of its appeal. +Seizing her disengaged hand, he pressed it passionately +to his lips.</p> + +<p>“Don’t read any more,” he begged; “I must talk +with you.”</p> + +<p>Startled almost to a degree of alarm, she laid down +the book, regarding him intently.</p> + +<p>“Can you ever forgive me for all I have made you +suffer?” he continued, in the same tense voice; “can you +ever believe that my forgetfulness of everything which +was due you was not deliberate, but the result of some +force beyond my control?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked at him steadily for a moment before +replying. “Yes,” she said, at length, making a desperate +effort to preserve her composure; “I forgive you +gladly. Shall we go on with the story?”</p> + +<p>“No!” he replied, almost fiercely, seizing the volume +and placing it beyond her reach upon the couch. “I +have been waiting for this moment too long, and now +nothing shall take it from me.”</p> + +<p>Helen realized that it was also the moment for which +she had been waiting, and which she had been dreading +beyond expression. Now he would comprehend +what she had meant, now he would struggle with +her to prevent her from doing what she knew she +must do.</p> + +<p>“There is no need of explanation, Jack,” she said, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +length. “I understand everything, and have understood +for a long time.”</p> + +<p>“Can you believe that I myself have only recently +come to a realization?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it has come to you sooner than I had expected.”</p> + +<p>“Can you believe how sincerely pained I am that all +this should have happened?”</p> + +<p>“I have never for a moment thought that you would +intentionally hurt me.”</p> + +<p>“Then you do understand, and will forget?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong sat up on the edge of the couch and watched +Helen’s face intently.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what you are asking,” she replied, +dropping her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I want to blot out the +memory of every pang I have caused you by a devotion +beyond anything you have ever dreamed.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t, Jack,” protested Helen.</p> + +<p>“Why not? Don’t you think I mean it? From now +on I have no interest except you, dear; and I will make +you forget everything which has happened.”</p> + +<p>Helen pressed his hand gratefully, and then withdrew +her own.</p> + +<p>“This is only going to open everything up again,” +she said, in a low, strained voice, “and that will be simply +another great mistake.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe me.” Armstrong’s voice was reproachful.</p> + +<p>“I believe you feel all that you say now, Jack.”</p> + +<p>“But—”</p> + +<p>“But you are not yourself now; that is all.”</p> + +<p>“I am quite myself; in fact, I am almost as good as +new.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t mean physically.”</p> + +<p>“And mentally as well. My mind is as clear as it +ever was.”</p> + +<p>“I know, Jack; but you are far away from the influence +which has so controlled you. That is what I +mean.”</p> + +<p>“It is a mighty good thing that I am.” Armstrong +spoke with emphasis.</p> + +<p>“For the time being, no doubt; but soon you will be +able to return to it.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never return to it.”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up quickly. Armstrong’s words were +spoken so forcibly that they startled her.</p> + +<p>“You must go back to it,” she replied, with equal +emphasis; “it is your life, and you must go back.”</p> + +<p>“I have passed through the experience once and for +all time.”</p> + +<p>Helen found it difficult not to be affected by the convincing +tone.</p> + +<p>“I have made more mistakes than you know of.”</p> + +<p>“In your work, do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“But this is only the first draft; you can easily correct +them.”</p> + +<p>“They could be more easily corrected in the book +than where they are.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>“The mistakes are in me!” Armstrong cried. “I am +no humanist; I am an impostor!”</p> + +<p>“Jack! Jack!” Helen was really alarmed. “You +are putting too much of a tax upon yourself. Remember, +you are not well yet.”</p> + +<p>“I am worse than an impostor,” Armstrong continued,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +excitedly, refusing to be checked: “I am a +traitor to the very cause I set myself to further! I +have been false in my duty to it, as I have been in my +obligations to you.”</p> + +<p>“That is just the point,” Helen interrupted. “I +absolved you of your obligations to me weeks ago, so +that part of it is all settled.”</p> + +<p>“But I did not absolve myself. I don’t understand +what I did or why I did it. Day by day I felt myself +slipping further and further away from you. I was not +strong enough to appreciate what was taking place, and +was powerless to resist.”</p> + +<p>“But I understood it even then,” Helen continued. +“I recognized that our marriage was the first mistake, +and decided that I would do my part toward remedying +the error with as little pain as possible.”</p> + +<p>“Our marriage was no mistake, except my own unfitness +to be your husband!” Armstrong cried, bitterly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, Jack,” Helen again pleaded. “You see, I +have had a much longer time to think the matter out.”</p> + +<p>“I was all right until I came under the influence, +which completely changed me, just as you told me it +did, time and again. Then, instead of being developed +by it as I should have been, I assimilated nothing but its +limitations and began to go backward.”</p> + +<p>“You must have assimilated far more than that,” +Helen insisted, “for your personal development through +it all has been tremendous. Otherwise this could not be.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, Helen.” Armstrong was desperate. “Let +me tell you how far down I have gone. You know how +eager I was, when we first came, to accomplish some +great achievement. You know how much I admired the +works and personalities of those grand old characters of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +whom you have so often heard me speak. Well, I took +up my work. I studied these characters, I wrote about +them, I tried to assimilate their principles and to express +them in words. At length the work was finished. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> +praised it, and I felt that I had proved myself equal to +the undertaking.”</p> + +<p>“And so you had,” Helen interrupted. “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> told +me so himself.”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> knows nothing of how ignominiously I failed +to apply these principles to myself. He has read the +noble platitudes with which my book is filled; you have +experienced the unworthy personal expressions as they +have appeared in my every-day life.”</p> + +<p>“But you have said yourself that you could not help +it.”</p> + +<p>“I should have been able to; that is where I showed +my utter unfitness for the undertaking. Now do you +understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jack,” Helen replied, slowly, after a moment’s +pause, “I think I do understand; but I also think that +my understanding is clearer than yours.”</p> + +<p>“Does it not enable you to forgive me for it all?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—I have already told you that. What you have +said is exactly what I knew you must say when you had +been long enough away from your work. I have never +felt this influence of which you have so often spoken, +but I have recognized its strength by what I have seen. +I do not mean that you need necessarily continue in your +present intensity, but I do mean that whether you recognize +it or not this second nature is your real self.”</p> + +<p>“But I tell you that I have no further interest in +my work.”</p> + +<p>“You think so, Jack, but you have been away from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +it for weeks. Perhaps by returning home you could +smother your love of it for a long time, but it would be +there just the same. And without it you could never +express your own individuality.”</p> + +<p>“I would, at least, be the self you knew before we +came here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but only that. With all the pain, Jack, I have +not been blind to what it has done for you. With all +the misapplication of the principles which you mention +you have gained so much that you could never be the +old self again. I could not respect you if you did. +Surely it would not be following the teachings of these +grand spirits were you to live a life below the standard +which you have shown yourself capable of maintaining.”</p> + +<p>“Then let us live that life together, Helen,” Armstrong +begged; “let us begin all over again, taking my +mistakes as guiding-posts to keep us from the dangers +against which I have not been strong enough, alone, to +guard myself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jack!” Helen withdrew her hands and pressed +them against her tired temples. “Don’t you see that +this is simply repeating the mistake which has caused +all our trouble? Now, at this moment, we are to each +other just what we were when we became engaged, forgetful +of all that has occurred since. Why not recognize +things as they really are, and spare ourselves the +added sorrow which must surely come?”</p> + +<p>“Can you not forgive what has happened since?”</p> + +<p>“I have forgiven all that there is to forgive; but I +can’t forget the knowledge that has come to me.”</p> + +<p>“What knowledge is there which refuses to be forgotten?”</p> + +<p>“A knowledge of your real self, Jack—and that self<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +has never belonged to me. It is as distinct and separate +as if it were that of another man. It has been developed +apart from me; it is of such a nature that I cannot +become a part of it.”</p> + +<p>“You are so great a part of it already, dear, that +you could not sever yourself from it.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jack. It is your loyalty, your sense of duty, +that is speaking now. Or perhaps you are far enough +away from what has happened not to see it as clearly as I +do. You have become a part of another life, and your +future belongs to that life and to the woman who has +also become a part of it.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t mean this, Helen. Think what you are +saying!”</p> + +<p>“I do mean it, just as I meant it when I said so before, +when you failed to comprehend. It is Inez who must +be your companion in this new life.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong did not remonstrate, as he had done before. +It was impossible to misunderstand the conviction in +Helen’s voice. He could no longer attribute it to jealousy +or to caprice; he could no longer fail to understand +the meaning of her words.</p> + +<p>“I have fully deserved all this,” he said, at length. +“When you first told me of Miss Thayer’s feeling toward +me I did not—I could not—believe it. Never once, +during all the hours we were together, was there anything +to confirm what you said.”</p> + +<p>“You did not notice this any more than you noticed +other things which happened, Jack; you were too completely +absorbed. But that does not alter the fact, does +it?”</p> + +<p>“No; the fact remains the same. It has only been +since the accident that I have realized it; and this is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +one of the two problems which I have to straighten +out.”</p> + +<p>“Then you do know now that Inez loves you?”</p> + +<p>Armstrong bowed his head.</p> + +<p>“What is it that has at last convinced you?”</p> + +<p>He hesitated for a moment. “It seems uncanny, +Helen, but I have been ‘seeing things.’”</p> + +<p>She looked at him questioningly. “Seeing things?” +she repeated.</p> + +<p>“Yes; you will think I have lost my mind again, just +as I did; but the doctor says it is not unusual. Inez was +alone with me, after the accident, you know, in the cottage.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” encouraged Helen, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“She thought me dead, and—this is brutal to repeat +to you, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“No, no—go on!”</p> + +<p>“Why, she said she loved me—that is all.”</p> + +<p>“But you were unconscious, Jack—you did not know +what was happening.”</p> + +<p>“Not then, but later. It came to me yesterday, while +lying on the couch,—almost as in a vision. I spoke to +the doctor about it, and he said that sometimes such +things do happen. If you had not told me what you +did I probably should have thought it nothing but +an uncomfortable dream, but as it was, of course I +understood.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure now that it was no dream?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I questioned Miss Thayer about some of the +details—not the most vital ones, of course—and she corroborated +them. But telling you all this will only make +matters worse.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jack; I know about it already. Inez has told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +me everything, and the poor girl is distracted. I am +glad that at last you are convinced.”</p> + +<p>“You knew all this?” He looked at her in amazement. +“You knew it, and have let her stay here?”</p> + +<p>“It is right that she should remain,” Helen answered, +firmly.</p> + +<p>Armstrong’s voice broke for a moment. “And I said +you were jealous!” he reproached himself. Then he +continued his appeal. “But granting all this, it cannot +settle the matter, deeply as I deplore it. My own +blindness and stupidity are to blame for it, and I must +accept the full responsibility; but my love for you has +never and could never be transferred to her or to any +one else. I have been criminally neglectful, I have been +culpably dense, but through it all you, and you alone, +have been in my heart. I have longed to say this to you +even while the spell was on me. I have longed to fold you +in my arms and ease the pain I have seen you suffer, but +I found myself powerless in this as in all else. Can you +not—will you not—believe what I say?”</p> + +<p>Helen looked up into her husband’s face before she +replied.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes I wish you were not so conscientious, +Jack—but of course I don’t mean that; only it would +make it easier for me to adhere to my determination +to do what I know is right. I was sure that this +moment would arrive; I know your ideas of duty and +loyalty, and I know that you would sacrifice yourself +and your future rather than be false to either. I believe +that you are sincere in thinking that your sentiments +toward Inez are purely platonic—I am sure they +would be so long as you were not free to have them +otherwise.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then why do you insist that they are otherwise?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t insist—I am simply accepting things as they +really are, even though I must suffer by doing so. You +are the only one who does not realize it, unless it be Inez +herself. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> told me, ‘I have never seen two individualities +cast in so identical a mould.’ Professor Tesso, +who saw you at work together at the library, said, ‘There +is a perfect union of well-mated souls’; you yourself, +when we returned from that moonlight ride, said to her, +‘You are the only one who understands me.’ It has +simply been your absorption in your work and your +loyalty to me which has kept you from seeing it yourself.”</p> + +<p>“<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> said that—Tesso saw us at the library?” +Armstrong looked at Helen in bewilderment. “You +thought my remark to Miss Thayer possessed anything +more than momentary significance?” His face assumed +an expression of still greater concern. “I have, indeed, +been more culpable than I realized. Is it not enough +if I tell you that you are all wrong—that I do not love +any one except the one person I have a right to love?”</p> + +<p>Helen smiled sadly. “No, Jack,” she replied, kindly +but firmly, “it is all too clear. When you return to +your real life, as you must do, you will return to your +real self as well. Then you will know that I have saved +you from the greatest mistake of all. You and Inez +are meant for each other, and always have been.” She +looked up with a brave but unsuccessful attempt to smile. +“Perhaps our little experience together has been necessary +in the development of us both, dear. If so, it will +make it easier to believe that our mutual suffering will +not have been in vain.”</p> + +<p>“I will never accept it, Helen!” cried Armstrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +desperately in earnest. “Your devotion to this false +idea will do more than all I have done to wreck our +lives. You must listen to reason.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t make it any harder for me than it is,” Helen +begged, her voice choking. “I am trying to talk calmly, +and to do what I know I must do; but I have been +through so much already. Please don’t make it any +harder.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong longed to comfort her, but he knew that +she would repulse him if he tried. He watched the conflict +through which the girl was passing and was overwhelmed +by the sense of his own responsibility. He +realized how near the tension was to the breaking-point, +and dared not pursue the subject further. Taking both +her hands in his, he gazed long into her eyes now filled +with tears.</p> + +<p>“If to give you up is the necessary penalty for the +sorrow I have brought to you,” he said, quietly, his +voice breaking as he spoke, “it shall be done—for your +sake, no matter what it means to me; but my love for +you is beyond anything I have ever known before.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXIX</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>There had been many visitors at the villa during +Armstrong’s illness and convalescence. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> had +called several times, being most solicitous for +the speedy recovery of his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégé;</i> and the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa +Morelli</span>, temporarily thwarted in the solution of her problem, +took advantage of the proximity of her villa to be +frequently on the spot, where she could observe the progress +of affairs under the suddenly changed conditions.</p> + +<p>Armstrong had long desired to question the contessa +further in regard to the disquieting conversation he had +held with her upon the occasion of their first meeting; +but the rapidity with which his latent impressions had +become definite realities made him unwilling to allow any +new developments to add to the complexity of the situation +as he had now come to know it. After his interview +with Helen, however, he was convinced that matters +had reached their climax, and he grasped any additional +information as possible material to be used in the +solving of his double dilemma. His opportunity came +on the following day, when he found himself alone with +the contessa upon the veranda, Helen having been called +to another part of the villa by some household demand.</p> + +<p>After Helen had made her excuses, Armstrong felt +himself to be the subject of a careful scrutiny on the +part of the contessa. He looked up quickly and met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +her glance squarely. Amélie had a way of making those +she chose feel well acquainted with her, and Armstrong, +during his convalescence, had proved interesting.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he asked, smiling, “what do you think of +him?”</p> + +<p>It was the contessa’s turn to smile, and the question +caught her so unexpectedly that the smile developed +into a hearty laugh.</p> + +<p>“I have been trying to make up my mind,” she replied, +frankly. “At first I thought him a human thinking-machine, +all head and no heart, but I am beginning +to believe that my early impressions were at fault.”</p> + +<p>“It gratifies me to hear you say that,” Armstrong +answered, calmly. “I presume those early impressions +of yours were formed at the library, when Miss Thayer +and I came under your observation.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied the contessa, unruffled by the quiet +sarcasm which she could but feel. “You see, I have +lived here in Italy for several years and have become accustomed +to the sight of saint worship; but it is a novel +experience to see the saint come down off his pedestal +and prove himself to have perfectly good warm blood +coursing through his veins.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you find it a bit difficult to picture me with +all my worldly attributes even as a temporary saint?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” the contessa answered. “Most of the +saints possessed worldly attributes before they attained +the dignity of statues. But think of the confusion +among their worshippers should they follow your example +and again assume the flesh! I imagine their +embarrassment would almost equal yours.”</p> + +<p>Amélie spoke indifferently, but Armstrong felt the +thrust. It was evident that she had no idea of dropping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +the subject, and Jack saw nothing else but to accept +it as cheerfully as possible.</p> + +<p>“Why not say ‘quite’?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Because the saints were wifeless. Perhaps that is +what made it possible for them to be saints.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong laughed in spite of himself. “If modern +women were to be canonized, you undoubtedly think +they should be selected from the married class?”</p> + +<p>“Canonizing hardly covers it,” the contessa replied; +“they belong among the martyrs.”</p> + +<p>“But you have not told me why you now feel that +your early impressions were in error,” Armstrong resumed, +sensing danger along the path which they had +almost taken, and really eager to learn how far his attitude +had impressed others. The contessa regarded him +critically.</p> + +<p>“There are many kinds of men,” she began, “and to +a woman of the world it is a necessity to classify those +whom she meets.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed?” queried Armstrong. “You are throwing +some most interesting side-lights upon a subject which +my education has entirely overlooked.”</p> + +<p>“Am I?” Amélie asked, innocently. “But your education +has been so far developed in other directions that +you can easily recognize the importance of what I say. +A woman who meets the world face to face must be +able to estimate the elements against which she has to +contend.”</p> + +<p>“Into how many classes do you divide us?” Armstrong +was interested in her naïve presentment.</p> + +<p>“The three principal divisions are, of course, single +men, married men, and widowers, but the subdivisions +are really more important. For my own use I find it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +more convenient to separate those I meet into four classes—the +interesting, the uninteresting, the safe, and the +dangerous.”</p> + +<p>“You have developed an absolute system,” Armstrong +asserted.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” Amélie responded, cheerfully; “without +one you men would have too distinct an advantage +over us.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would enlarge on your classification a +little more. It is gratifying to me to know that members +of my sex receive such careful consideration.”</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose we eliminate the uninteresting—they +really don’t count except in considering matrimony; then +we have to weigh the material advantages they offer +against their lack of interest. This brings us down to the +interesting and safe, and the interesting and dangerous.”</p> + +<p>“Have I the honor to be included in one of these two +classes?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” the contessa replied, frankly.</p> + +<p>“May I ask which? You see, my curiosity is getting +the upper hand.”</p> + +<p>Amélie threw back her head with a hearty laugh. “I +was certainly wrong in my first diagnosis,” she said. “A +man who was merely a thinking-machine would possess +no curiosity. Usually a learned man is entirely safe.”</p> + +<p>“Then you really consider me dangerous?” There +was a tone in Armstrong’s voice which caused the contessa +to look up at him quickly.</p> + +<p>“Most men would consider that a compliment, Mr. +Armstrong.”</p> + +<p>Receiving no reply, Amélie continued:</p> + +<p>“Your wife has such original ideas! I have found +my acquaintance with her positively refreshing.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How does this bear upon our present conversation?” +Armstrong inquired, still weighed down by the contessa’s +estimate of him. Amélie’s frankness showed that no +doubt existed in her mind as to his attitude toward Miss +Thayer, and he felt that denials would be worse than useless. +If impressions such as these lay in the mind of a +casual observer like the contessa it was but natural that +they should assume greater proportions to Helen; and it +was with a foreboding that he heard her name mentioned +in the present conversation. Amélie, however, could not +sense the effect of her words upon her companion.</p> + +<p>“Because we once discussed the same subject,” she +replied to his question, “and her attitude was most unusual. +She even said that were she convinced that her +husband really loved some other woman she would step +aside and give him a clear field.”</p> + +<p>“Did she say that?” Armstrong demanded.</p> + +<p>“She did,” asserted the contessa. “You are a very +lucky man, Mr. Armstrong,” she continued, looking into +his face meaningly; “my husband is not so fortunate.”</p> + +<p>While Armstrong hesitated in order to make no mistake +in his reply, Helen returned accompanied by <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, +and the moment when he could have formulated an answer +had passed. The old man held up a finger reproachfully +as he saw the contessa.</p> + +<p>“You have never made another appointment to study +those manuscripts with me,” he said, as he took her hand. +“Tell me that your interest has not flagged.”</p> + +<p>The librarian spoke feelingly, although he tried to +conceal his disappointment. It was such a triumph that +his work should appeal to one so devoted to a life of social +gayety. Amélie remembered her interview with him +at the library and felt that she deserved the reproach.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Surely not,” she replied, with so much apparent +sincerity in her voice that the old man believed her and +was mollified. “I have even received a new impetus from +listening to Mr. Armstrong’s enthusiastic account of his +work with you and his impatience to return to it.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong glanced quickly at Helen as the contessa +attributed to him a desire so opposed to the definite statement +he had made the day before, while <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> smiled +contentedly. Helen gave no sign of having particularly +noticed the remark, but Jack felt keenly his inability at +that moment to set himself right.</p> + +<p>“I was just about to take my departure,” Amélie +continued, “and I am glad not to be obliged to leave the +invalid alone. I know how delighted you will be to take +my place,” she said to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>.</p> + +<p>The old man dropped into the chair the contessa left +vacant, while Armstrong watched the two figures until +they disappeared in the hallway. Then he turned to his +friend—but it was to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> the priest, the father-confessor, +rather than to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> the librarian. He felt the +seriousness of the situation more acutely than at any +time since a realization of its complexity came to him. +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>“You are not so well to-day,” he said, at length. +“You must go slowly, my son, and give Nature ample +time to make her repairs.”</p> + +<p>“I fear even Nature has no remedy sufficiently powerful +to cure my malady,” Armstrong replied, bitterly. +“I would to God she had!”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was at a loss to understand his manner or his +words.</p> + +<p>“What has happened?” he asked, sympathetically. +“Is there some complication of which I know not?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span></p> + +<p>Armstrong bowed his head, overcome for the moment +by an overwhelming sense of his own impotency.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” urged the old man, himself affected by +his companion’s attitude. “I have missed you sadly at +the library these weeks, and I am impatient for your +return.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never return!” cried Armstrong, fiercely. “I +have proved myself utterly unworthy of the work I undertook +with you.”</p> + +<p>“My son! my son!” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> was aghast at what he +heard. Then his voice softened as he thought he divined +the explanation.</p> + +<p>“Slowly, slowly,” he said, soothingly. “It is too soon +to put so heavy a burden upon your brain after the +shock it has sustained. There is no haste. Your friends +at the library will be patient, as you must be.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong easily read what was passing through the +librarian’s mind, and it increased his bitterness against +himself. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s calmness, however, quieted him, and +he was more contained as he replied.</p> + +<p>“I wish that the facts were as you think,” he said, +decisively. “It would be a positive relief to me if I +could believe that my mind was still unbalanced as a +result of the accident, but it is so nearly recovered that +I must consider myself practically well. But I am glad +of this chance to tell you how we have both been deceived. +It will be a comfort to have you act as my +confessor, and if your affection still holds after my recital +I know that you will advise me as to what future +course I must pursue.”</p> + +<p>In tense, clear-cut sentences Armstrong poured out +to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> the story of the past months as he looked back +upon them. He was frank in speaking of what he believed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +to be his accomplishments, as he was pitiless in +his arraignment of himself in his failures. He showed +how he had assimilated the lessons of the past only in +his capacity of scribe; he explained how self-centred, +selfish, and neglectful of his duty toward others he had +been in his personal life. He spoke freely of his companionship +with Miss Thayer, of her unquestioned affection +for him, and of the impressions which had been +made upon Helen and the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span>. He insisted +simply yet forcefully upon his own loyalty to Helen, not +from a sense of duty, as she firmly believed, but because +his devotion had never wavered.</p> + +<p>In speaking of his wife Armstrong went into minute +detail, even going back to his early attempts to interest +her in what had later become his grand passion. He +described her personal attributes, her love of the present +rather than the past, her protective attitude toward +her friend even in the face of such distressing circumstances; +her generosity toward him; and finally her unalterable +conviction that their separation was imperative.</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> listened in breathless silence as Armstrong’s +story progressed. He himself had played a part in the +drama of which his companion was ignorant, and a sense +of his own responsibility came to the old man with subtle +force. He recalled his first meeting with Helen at the +library, he remembered their later conversations, and in +his contemplations he almost forgot, for the moment, +the man sitting in front of him in his consideration of +the splendid development, which he had witnessed without +fully realizing it, in this woman whom he had pronounced +unfitted by nature to enter into this side of her +husband’s work, as she had longed to do. Now, as a +result of his lack of foresight, she proposed to eliminate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +herself from what she considered to be her husband’s +problem. “It has been more far-reaching than even +you realize,” she had said to him at the reception at +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Villa Godilombra</span>, and this was what she had meant.</p> + +<p>It was several moments after Armstrong ceased speaking +before <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> raised his eyes, and to Jack’s surprise +he saw that they were filled with tears. He naturally +attributed it to the librarian’s affection for him and his +sympathy for his sorrow.</p> + +<p>“I should not have told you this, padre,” he said, +sadly, pressing the hand which the old man laid tenderly +upon his. “The fault is mine, and I should not +try to shirk the full responsibility by sharing it with +you.”</p> + +<p>“It is mine to share with you, my son,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> replied, +firmly. “You have erred, as you state. You have been +to blame for not giving out again, as the example of the +master-spirits of the past should have taught you, those +glorious lessons which impart the joy of living to those +who give as well as to those who receive. But my error +is even heavier. I have lived all my life in this atmosphere, +drinking in the knowledge and the spirit which +have come to you only within the past few months; yet +I failed to recognize in your wife the natural embodiment +of all that the best in humanism teaches. What +you and I have endeavored to assimilate she has felt +and expressed as naturally as she has breathed. She +has shown us humanism in its highest development, purified +and strengthened by her own fine nature, even though +we have given her no opportunity for expression. Thank +God we have recognized it at last!”</p> + +<p>“You really believe that?” cried Armstrong, recalling +his own earlier and less-defined conviction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Beyond a doubt,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> answered. “Let us find +her, that we may tell her what a victory she has won.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong placed a restraining hand upon the old +man’s arm. “Not yet,” he said, gently but firmly. +“There is much still to be done to prepare her for this +knowledge. At present she would not accept it.”</p> + +<p>“We must convince her.”</p> + +<p>“First of all I must make my peace with Miss +Thayer,” Armstrong replied. “Until that complication +is relieved there is no hope.”</p> + +<p>“Do you feel strong enough for that?” asked <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It requires more than strength, padre,” Armstrong +replied, seriously; “it requires faith in myself, which +at present is sadly lacking.”</p> + +<p>The old man rose and stood for a moment beside Armstrong’s +half-reclining figure. Bending down, he took +his face in his hands and looked full into his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Let me give you that faith,” he said, affectionately. +“You have already learned by sad experience that you +are not the master of Fate. Let me tell you that by the +same token you are not the victim of Fate. Nature, unerring +in her wisdom, is now giving you the privilege of +being co-partner with her in the final solving of your +great personal problem. Accept the offered opportunity, +my son, and show yourself finally worthy of it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXX</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>Helen had not overlooked the contessa’s remark +to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, even though she gave no evidence at +the time of having heard it. Her conversation +with Jack had given her thoughts much food to feed +upon. His words were so welcome, after the long breach, +his manner so sincere, that she had been nearer to the +yielding-point than he imagined. She had wondered if, +after all, her attitude was justified, in view of his expressed +desire to return to the same relations which had +previously given them both such happiness. Jack’s +statement that her insistence upon the present conditions +would do more to wreck their happiness than anything +which he had done, made its impression upon her. +Nothing but the previous intensity of her conviction +that she must yield her place to Inez had held her to the +self-appointed duty which she found so difficult to perform.</p> + +<p>When the contessa repeated to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> what appeared +to be an expression of her husband’s impatience to return +to his work Helen felt all hesitation vanish. Jack +sympathized with her suffering, and would do all which +lay in his power to make amends. She knew that he +would give up all idea of future work, no matter at what +sacrifice to himself, rather than add another straw to the +burden which he now saw was nearly bearing her down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +Yet the affection which she felt for him refused to be +strangled. His very insistence, even though she was +convinced that it was prompted by his sense of duty, +fanned the embers into flame at a time when she was certain +that at last their fire had become extinct. It was +further evidence of her weakness, she told herself, and +she would make superhuman efforts to adhere to the +duty which lay plainly enough before her.</p> + +<p>As she was leaving, the contessa placed her arm about +Helen’s waist and whispered to her:</p> + +<p>“Don’t think me meddlesome, my dear, but you will +make a great mistake not to stick close beside that big, +splendid husband of yours. They all do it, and I imagine +he has been almost circumspect compared with +most of them. Send the girl away and see if you can’t +make him forget his affinity. He is worth the effort, my +dear—believe me, he is worth the effort.”</p> + +<p>Helen was so taken by surprise by the contessa’s +words that she stood speechless, looking at her with +dull, lifeless eyes as she stepped into the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tonneau</span> and +waved a smiling farewell as the motor-car rolled out of +the court-yard. So the contessa was aware of the situation, +and was also convinced of Jack’s attachment for +Inez! This was too horrible—she could not endure +it! Matters must be brought to a head soon or she +would die of mortification! She could not return to the +veranda where she had left <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> and Jack together, +but went up-stairs to her room, where she locked the +door and threw herself upon the bed in a paroxysm of +tears.</p> + +<p>Armstrong, on the contrary, had gained strength +from <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s sympathy. He would accept the offered +opportunity and see if at last he could not prove himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +worthy of such glorious co-partnership. Unlike his +previous efforts, if he succeeded it would tend to restore +Helen’s happiness as well, and this gave him an added +incentive.</p> + +<p>It was the afternoon of the next day before he was +able to make his opportunity. Inez had taken a book +and secreted herself in Helen’s “snuggery” in the garden, +but Armstrong’s watchful eyes followed her. Waiting +until she had time to become well settled, he strolled +around the garden, finally appearing at the entrance to +prevent her escape. To his surprise she made no such +effort, and appeared more at ease than at any time since +the accident.</p> + +<p>“Have you come to join me?” she asked, with much +of her former bearing.</p> + +<p>“If I may,” he replied, advancing to the seat and +taking the place she made for him beside her.</p> + +<p>“How famously you are getting on!” she said, laying +down the volume; “you are more like yourself than +I have seen you since the awful accident.”</p> + +<p>“If I may say so,” Armstrong replied, watching her +closely, “I was just thinking the same of you.”</p> + +<p>Inez flushed. “You are right,” she answered, frankly, +after a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>Armstrong was distinctly relieved by her unexpected +attitude. As he looked back he realized that there had +been a change in her bearing toward him, particularly +during the past week; but until now he had not appreciated +how rapidly her unnatural manner had been +returning to what it was during the early days of their +acquaintance. The apparent effort to avoid him had +disappeared, although he knew of no more reason for +this than he had originally seen cause for its existence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +Whatever the reason, the change had undoubtedly taken +place, and it made matters easier for him.</p> + +<p>“We have passed through much together, Miss +Thayer,” he began. “I wonder if we realize how +much.”</p> + +<p>“It has certainly been an unusual experience,” she +admitted. “I expressed this to you at the library—do +you remember? As I said then, it could hardly occur +again.”</p> + +<p>“I appreciate that now,” Armstrong replied, in a low +voice; “at that time I do not think I did.”</p> + +<p>“There was much which you could not appreciate +then,” continued Inez; “and as I look back upon it +there is much which I cannot explain to myself. In +fact, there is a great deal that I blame myself for.”</p> + +<p>“The blame belongs to me, Miss Thayer,” Armstrong +asserted, firmly.</p> + +<p>“For being away from Helen so much?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and for many other acts of selfishness and +neglect. I am to blame for all that you feel against +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Against myself?” Inez repeated.</p> + +<p>Armstrong paused long before he continued. “You +have passed through this spell with me,” he said, at +length. “You, better than any one else, know its power, +and can understand the cause of my attitude toward you +and Helen, which was as inexplicable as it was unpardonable. +And because you understand this I believe +that I shall find you the more ready to forgive.”</p> + +<p>“There is nothing for which you stand in need of my +forgiveness,” Inez said, in a low tone. “On the contrary, +there is much for which I have to thank you. It +was a new world to which you introduced me—one which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +I should not otherwise have known; and having known +it, nothing can ever take it from me.”</p> + +<p>“If matters had only stopped there,” Armstrong +continued, “I should have accomplished just what I had +hoped to do. The fascination of the work so held me, +and my desire to further the principles which seemed to +me to represent all which made life worth the living +resulted in blinding me to the possibility that you, +perhaps, were not affected to a similar degree. Your +assistance was so valuable, your companionship so congenial +that I never once realized that I was running any +risk of not performing my full duty toward you as well +as toward Helen.”</p> + +<p>Inez could not fail to comprehend the import of his +words, and a feeling of thankfulness passed over her +that this conversation had not come earlier. The days +which had passed since she confided to Helen the secret +which she had so long carried alone had, in their way, +been as full of chaotic conditions as had Armstrong’s; +yet it was but recently that she had come to realize the +full importance of what had really happened. The days +at the library, as she looked back upon them, seemed as +a dream. She could close her eyes and bring back the +intoxication of those moments alone with Armstrong in +which she had silently revelled, while he had applied +himself to the task before him unconscious of what was +taking place. She could not deny herself the guilty +pleasure of recalling them, yet little by little these +thoughts had become disassociated from the man with +whom she now came in almost hourly contact. With +this disassociation came a welcome relief. The dread +which she had felt of seeing him and hearing his voice +disappeared as suddenly as it had come. She wondered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +at it, but she accepted it eagerly without waiting for +an explanation.</p> + +<p>With her return to more normal conditions her solicitude +for Helen increased. She was conscious of her +friend’s unhappiness, yet she, perhaps, of all the household, +was least aware of the extent of the breach between +her and Armstrong. Helen, naturally perhaps, had confined +her conversation upon this subject to Uncle Peabody +and her husband, so Inez had no thought other than +that all would straighten itself out now that Jack had +become himself again. She had believed that Helen +alone shared her secret with her, so it was with surprise +and mortification that she became aware that Armstrong +himself knew of what had taken place. This was even +more of an ordeal to face than when she made her confession +to Helen, yet it was one which ought to be met +with absolute frankness.</p> + +<p>“I understand what you mean,” she replied, the color +still showing in her face, “and I am glad that this opportunity +has come for me to speak freely, even at the +risk of losing your esteem. It is quite true that I, too, +found myself beneath a spell—but besides this one which +influenced you there was also another and a different +one. I see no reason why I should be ashamed to say +that this other spell was unconsciously exerted by a great +scholar, a noble friend, a loyal husband. The effect of +it was for a time overpowering, but now I can acknowledge +it without injuring any one and express my gratitude +for an influence which must always act for my best +good.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Thayer!” Armstrong cried, overwhelmed by +the revulsion which the girl’s words brought to him. +“I beg of you not to make virtues out of my errors;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +I cannot accept a tribute such as that, knowing myself +to be unworthy of it. Can you not see that I should +have guarded you from that spell, both for your sake +and for Helen’s?”</p> + +<p>Inez smiled in real happiness that the break had at +last been made. “You have given me far more than +you have taken away, dear friend,” she replied, gratefully; +“now that the experience is past I appreciate it +more than ever. But promise me that you will not give +up this work because of what we all have been through.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong shook his head. “I shall not take such +chances again,” he said.</p> + +<p>“It could never repeat itself,” Inez urged. “Because +one has been wounded by the thorn he failed to +see is no reason why he should never pluck another rose.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose that in plucking the rose something +fell out from next the heart which was inexpressibly dear +to him and was lost forever?”</p> + +<p>Inez looked up quickly. “What do you mean?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“Do you not know that Helen insists upon a separation?”</p> + +<p>“A separation!” Inez repeated, rising to her feet; +“why, she worships you! Surely there is some mistake.”</p> + +<p>“No; she is convinced that our marriage was all +wrong, and that she stands between me and the continuance +of this work, which she argues is essential for +my development and happiness. It is ridiculous, of +course, but I cannot move her.”</p> + +<p>“She is right about the work,” the girl said, decidedly; +“but there is no one in the world better fitted to +enter into it with you than she, if she but knew it. As +I said, you will never take it up in the same way again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +but having learned what it means you can never eliminate +it from your life; and this should draw you and +Helen even closer together.”</p> + +<p>“My one remaining labor is to convince her of this,” +Armstrong replied, feelingly.</p> + +<p>“And I will help you do it.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked at her steadily for a moment. +“There is another point upon which she insists, of +which I have not told you,” he said.</p> + +<p>Inez waited for him to continue.</p> + +<p>“She believes that you and I are foreordained for +each other,” Armstrong said, bluntly, “and she proposes +to step aside to make the realization of this possible.”</p> + +<p>The girl gazed at her companion in silent amazement. +So this was the cause of Helen’s suffering—this was the +price she was willing to pay as a tribute to her friendship +for her and her love for her husband!</p> + +<p>“The brave, brave girl!” Inez cried, almost overcome +by her emotion. “I must make her understand that the +Jack Armstrong I loved was killed at the foot of the +hill of <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>. Dear, dear Helen! it is now my +privilege to give her back her happiness as she gave +me back mine!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXXI</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>It had been to Uncle Peabody that Helen had turned +during all this period, but it was for comfort and +strength rather than for advice. The problem was +hers, and she alone must finally solve it. She had +thought it settled until her conversation with Jack, +which caused a momentary wavering. She repeated +Armstrong’s words to Uncle Peabody, and his absolute +conviction that her husband’s present attitude was +a normal and final expression encouraged her to question +whether there might not be some other solution than the +one upon which she had determined. Still, it was only +a questioning; as yet she was unprepared to share Uncle +Peabody’s conviction.</p> + +<p>“Don’t lean too far backward,” he had said to her, +“in your efforts to stand by your principles. I have +seen things which were called principles at first become +tyrants and do damage out of all proportion to the +good they would have done had the conditions not +changed.”</p> + +<p>“It is the conditions I am watching, uncle,” Helen +had replied. “I have no ‘principles,’ as you call them, +which will not joyfully yield themselves. I must not—I +will not—stand in the way either of Jack’s happiness +or of his development. If I can make myself see any +way by which we can stay together without accomplishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +one or the other of these mistakes, God knows how +eagerly I will again pick up the thread of life.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Peabody had folded her in his great arms again, +as he had done so many times lately.</p> + +<p>“People have sometimes told me that I am a philosopher,” +he said, huskily. “They have seen me meet +death in a dear friend, or even one closer to me, with +calmness, sending the departed spirit a wireless ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon-voyage</span>’ +message and considering the incident as fortunate, +as if he had received a promotion. But when +I see one as dear to me as you are, gasping for breath in +what has seemed to be a hopeless and prolonged struggle +for that life which love alone can give you, I must +confess that my stock of philosophy, such as it is, seems +sadly inadequate.”</p> + +<p>Now had come the necessity of repeating to him what +the contessa had said, which gave Helen double pain, +knowing, as she did, how much relief her last conversation +had given him.</p> + +<p>“I can’t believe it, Helen,” Uncle Peabody said, decisively. +“Whatever else one may say of Jack Armstrong, +he is honest, and I can’t believe him insincere +in what he said to you.”</p> + +<p>“It is not insincerity, dear,” she replied, wearily. +“He is trying to deceive himself.—What is it, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>?” +she asked, almost petulantly, of the maid as she +approached.</p> + +<p>“Monsignor <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>—” began the maid.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Armstrong is on the veranda,” Helen interrupted.</p> + +<p>“But he asks for the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">madama</span>.”</p> + +<p>“For me?” Helen was incredulous. “Show him out +here, <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> + +<p>The librarian’s face beamed genially as he greeted +her and Uncle Peabody.</p> + +<p>“Has the maid not made a mistake?” Helen asked. +“Is it not our invalid whom you wish to see?”</p> + +<p>“No, my daughter, it is you whom I seek. I have +come to make a full though long-delayed acknowledgment.”</p> + +<p>Helen glanced over to Uncle Peabody, thoroughly +mystified.</p> + +<p>“Your husband and I were talking of you yesterday,” +he continued, “and we both are deeply concerned +to find how erroneous have been our estimates and how +slow we have been to recognize the truth.”</p> + +<p>So Jack had sent him to plead his cause, Helen told +herself, and in her heart she resented the interference. +It was unlike him to intrust so important a matter as +this to another, yet perhaps it was a further evidence +of the new conditions.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 341px;"><a name="fp334" id="fp334"></a> +<img src="images/fp334.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, HELEN +TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER HEART SHE RESENTED +THE INTERFERENCE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">SO JACK HAD SENT HIM TO PLEAD HIS CAUSE, HELEN +TOLD HERSELF; AND IN HER HEART SHE RESENTED +THE INTERFERENCE</span> +</div> + +<p>“Shall I not leave you to yourselves?” queried Uncle +Peabody.</p> + +<p>“By no means!” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> cried, hastily. “It is most +fitting that you should hear what I am about to say. +Do you remember the first day I met you at the +library?” he continued, addressing his question to +Helen.</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes for a moment, and an involuntary +shadow of pain passed over her face as she replied, +quietly:</p> + +<p>“Do you think I could ever forget it?”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> saw it all, and it touched him deeply. “I was +unkind to you that day, my daughter—even cruel. I +thought I understood, but later events have shown me +that my judgment led me far astray.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old man had come to a realization at last! This, +at all events, was a comfort to her.</p> + +<p>“Only in part,” she replied, trying to speak cheerfully. +“The character-building was going on just as +you said.”</p> + +<p>“It was,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> said, forcefully—“to a greater extent, +I believe, than any one of us knew. My only excuse +is that I was possessed with a preconceived idea—the +very thing which I so much object to in others.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I quite understand,” Helen replied. +“Do you mean that, after all his efforts, my husband is +right in his conviction that his work has been a failure?”</p> + +<p>“It is not of your husband that I am thinking now,” +the librarian answered; “it is of myself—and you.”</p> + +<p>“Of me?” Helen was genuinely surprised. “But +I have never entered into the consideration at all, where +the work at the library was concerned.”</p> + +<p>“You should have done so; that is just the point.”</p> + +<p>“I wanted to,” Helen cried; “but you told me that +I was quite incapable of doing so.”</p> + +<p>“I know I did,” replied the librarian, bowing his +head; “and that is where I made my great mistake.”</p> + +<p>“It would have stopped their work where it was—you +said so yourself.”</p> + +<p><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> again bowed his head. “All part of the same +mistake,” he admitted. “Had I encouraged you at that +time you would not only have added much to the work +itself, but you would have saved your husband from his +own great error. I have been much to blame, my daughter, +and you must not hold him responsible for a fault +which is really mine.”</p> + +<p>Helen tried to fathom what was in the old man’s mind. +She could not question his sincerity, yet his words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +seemed a mockery. Jack had evidently taken him freely +into his confidence, so there was no reason why she should +not speak freely.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Armstrong has apparently told you how unfortunately +his experience has ended in its effect upon +our personal relations. Knowing this, I am sure you +would not intentionally wound me further by seeking to +restore matters to a false basis; yet I can understand +your words in no other way. As you said of my husband, +that day in the library, this time it is your heart +and not your head which finds expression.”</p> + +<p>The librarian gasped with apprehension. “Daughter! +daughter!” he cried, “have I not made myself +clear! Then let me do so now before any possible misunderstanding +can enter in. I am a humanist by profession—until +now I believed myself a modern humanist. +When I first knew your husband, he was a youth full of +intelligent appreciation of those ancient marvels which +I delighted to show him. Imagine my joy, twelve years +later, to welcome him again, grown to man’s estate, and +to find that the early seeds which I had planted within +him had sent out roots and tendrils so strong as to +hold him firmly in their grasp. Then he brought Miss +Thayer to me—at first I took her for you, as she was +the kind of woman I had expected him to marry. +She entered into his work with him with the same spirit +as his own, and my foolish old heart rejoiced that such +splendid material had been placed in my hands for the +moulding.”</p> + +<p>“Why repeat all this?” Helen interrupted; “I know +it all and accept it all, but what agony to pass through +it still another time!”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, my daughter,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> replied, quickly;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +“we are past the period of your sacrifice now, and have +reached the point of your triumph.”</p> + +<p>“My triumph!” cried Helen, bitterly. “Why do +you hurt me so?”</p> + +<p>“Patience, dear,” Uncle Peabody urged, quietly. +“Monsignor <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> has some purpose in mind which +makes this necessary, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“I am unfortunate in my presentation,” the librarian +apologized. “The point I wish to make is that up to +the time I met Mrs. Armstrong I had known but one +kind of humanism. I myself had studied the master-spirits +of the past, and had assimilated the principles +which they taught. Mr. Armstrong and Miss Thayer +assimilated their lessons in the same way as I had done; +but we all failed to recognize in this dear lady the natural +expression—the personification—of all that we ourselves +had labored so assiduously to acquire.”</p> + +<p>Both Helen and Uncle Peabody were listening to the +old man’s words with breathless attention.</p> + +<p>“You mean that Mrs. Armstrong is a natural humanist?” +Uncle Peabody queried.</p> + +<p>“The most perfect expression of all that humanism +contains which I can ever hope to see,” <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> replied, +with feeling. “I, more than any one, have prevented +the expression of these attributes which are your natural +heritage; now let me help to merge them with your +husband’s undoubted talents.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot mean it,” Helen said, weakly, sobering +down after the first exhilaration of the old man’s words. +“I am no humanist, either natural or otherwise. Monsignor +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> evidently means to give me a new confidence, +but it is a mistaken kindness.”</p> + +<p>“You must listen to what he says, Helen,” Uncle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +Peabody insisted. “I have known <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> for many +years, and he would make no such statement unless he +felt it to be true.”</p> + +<p>“It is all as unknown to me as some foreign language +I have never heard before,” she protested. “I know, +for I have tried to understand.”</p> + +<p>“Does a bird have to know the technique of music +before it can sing?” asked <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, this is agony for me!” cried Helen, in despair. +“I can only see in it another opening of the wound, another +barb later to be torn from my heart.”</p> + +<p>“Be reasonable, child,” urged Uncle Peabody, soothingly. +“It seems to me that instead of all this <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> +has brought to you—to all of us—the solution of our +problem. Let me ask him a few questions, while you +control yourself and try to understand.”</p> + +<p>Helen acquiesced silently. <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s words had seemed +to give her hope, yet she dared not allow herself to hope +again. Limp from exhaustion, worn out by her ceaseless +mental struggle, she had no strength even to oppose.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Armstrong has taken her present position,” +began Uncle Peabody, “because she feels absolutely +that her husband’s real expression of himself is that +which he has shown her while under the influence of this +spell which his love of the old-time learning has woven +about him.”</p> + +<p>“She is right,” replied the librarian, “except that +by an unusual combination of circumstances this influence +overpowered him by its strength, and he should +not be held wholly responsible for his abnormal acts. +This is not the first time I have seen this happen. There +is a peculiar languor in the atmosphere, here in Florence, +impregnated as it is with the romance of centuries, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +is absolutely intoxicating to the mind, but it is rarely +that it succeeds in making itself so felt upon an Anglo-Saxon +temperament. Mr. Armstrong ought never, for +the sake of his own individuality, to give up his fondness +for the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">literæ humaniores</i>, but it is entirely out of +the question for him ever again to become so subject to +their control.”</p> + +<p>“She senses this quite as strongly as you do; but +beyond this she feels that he can never retain the development +which has come to him here except in an atmosphere +filled with a comprehension of all which he +holds so dear.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Armstrong is still in the right,” assented +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>, gravely; “but there is one point which she still +fails to understand. Her husband’s work has been humanistic, +but he himself is but just ready to begin to be +a humanist. She is the one best fitted in every way to +join him at this point, and their two personalities, thus +united, can but produce splendid results.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot believe it,” Helen interrupted, speaking +with decision. “It has been from Inez and not from +me that he has received his inspiration. Things are +no different now from what they have been: Inez is still +the one to inspire him to attain his best.”</p> + +<p>“You are wrong, dear,” spoke a low voice behind +them, as Inez threw her arms about Helen and embraced +her warmly. “I surmised what you were discussing, +and took this first opportunity to do my part toward +straightening things out.”</p> + +<p>Helen sat upright and looked steadily into Inez’ +smiling face, completely freed for the first time in many +weeks from its care-worn expression.</p> + +<p>“You—you could not look like that if you understood,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +she stammered, still startled by her friend’s sudden +appearance.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Armstrong and I have talked it all over, and at +last I understand what should have been clear to me long +ago. You are a dear, brave girl, Helen, and deserve +all the happiness which is in store for you.”</p> + +<p>“Happiness—to me! Oh, Inez,” Helen cried, “why +do you all mock me with that word? There can be no +happiness for me, and, unless I do what I propose, it +means misery for every one instead of for me alone.”</p> + +<p>“No, dear,” Inez replied, softly, gently smoothing +Helen’s hair as she rested her tired head upon her shoulder. +“No—there can be nothing but happiness, now +that all is understood.”</p> + +<p>“But you—you love Jack, Inez.”</p> + +<p>The girl colored as Helen spoke thus freely in the +presence of others, but her voice was firm as she replied.</p> + +<p>“Helen, dear,” she said, “here in the presence of +Mr. Cartwright and Monsignor <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> I ask your permission +to keep in my heart the image of the man I +learned to love while we both were beneath the spell. +That man no longer exists in the flesh, but I still worship +his memory. He can never exist again except as +a part of an experience which could never be repeated. +Is this asking too much, dear?”</p> + +<p>“What does it all mean?” cried Helen, gazing at her +helplessly—“what does it all mean?”</p> + +<p>“It means that there have been two Jacks, Helen—one +of whom became transformed for a time into a +veritable master-spirit of the past. To this man, I +admit, I gave a devotion which I shall never—could +never—give to any other; but he died, Helen, when the +spell broke against that wall at the foot of the hill of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Settignano</span>. This man, even during his existence, gave +me no devotion in return, and knew not the passion +which he inspired in me. He had no heart, but it was +not his heart I worshipped. To me his mind—broad, +comprehensive, and understanding—stood for all that +life could give. The other Jack—the man you married—has +never wavered in the love he gave you from +the first. He has suffered from the influence of the +second personality in that he was forced into the background +by the greater strength of this sub-conscious +self; but he has also gained from its influence in the +development which we all have seen. My Jack is dead, +but yours still lives. He needs you, and he longs for the +return to him of the wife he has always loved.”</p> + +<p>Inez paused after her long appeal, eager to read a +favorable response in the pale face still gazing at her, +but no change came over the set features. Once or twice +Helen started to speak, but no words came. Uncle Peabody +and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> had followed Inez intently, realizing +that she was pleading the cause far better than they +could. Affected by the scene before them, they found +themselves unable to break the silence. At last Helen’s +voice came back to her.</p> + +<p>“He longs for the return to him of the wife he has +always loved?”</p> + +<p>She repeated Inez’ words slowly, in the form of a +question.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear,” her friend replied; “he is waiting for +you now.”</p> + +<p>“Oh no, no, no!” Helen cried, brokenly, covering her +face with her hands; “it is all a mistake. You are +all doing this for my sake, and it is not the truth—it +is not the truth!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You are ill, Helen!” cried Inez, alarmed by her appearance +as well as by the wildness of her words; “come, +let me take you to your room.”</p> + +<p>Unresistingly Helen suffered herself to be led into the +house, leaving Uncle Peabody and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> looking apprehensively +at each other.</p> + +<p>“He longs—for the return to him—of the wife—he +has always loved,” Helen murmured over and over again, +as Inez and <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span> undressed her and gently put her +into bed. She seemed indifferent to what Inez said to +her, and conscious only of the words which she kept repeating. +Thoroughly frightened, Inez left her in <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Annetta</span>’s +care while she rushed down-stairs to summon the +doctor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr class="l1"/> +<h3>XXXII</h3> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p>For a few days Helen’s condition was grave enough +to warrant the anxiety which pervaded the entire +household. Dr. Montgomery was again pressed +into service, and found his skill taxed to the utmost to +meet the condition in which he found his new patient.</p> + +<p>“This is a great surprise to me,” he remarked to +Uncle Peabody, shaking his head ominously. “I have +made it a point to watch Mrs. Armstrong throughout +the shock and the strain of her husband’s accident, anticipating +that this nervous reaction might occur; but +the time when it would naturally have happened is now +long since passed.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cartwright reluctantly explained to the doctor +enough of the facts to assist him to a proper understanding +of the case, and with sympathies fully enlisted +his efforts were redoubled. The patient herself proved +to be his greatest obstacle. Try as he would, he could +not arouse in her any interest in her recovery. She accepted +his services and those of the nurse without question, +but in an apathetic manner. Armstrong, Inez, and +Uncle Peabody hovered about the sick-chamber, eagerly +grasping such information as the nurse and the doctor +were able to give them, the anxious lines in their faces +becoming deeper as the hours passed by.</p> + +<p>But it was naturally upon Armstrong that the burden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +rested most heavily. He had been given the fullest details +of the conference in the garden which immediately +preceded Helen’s collapse, and her replies to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span>’s appeal +showed him, better even than his last conversation +with her, how seriously she had been affected. For this +he alone was responsible, and he was equally responsible +for the illness which came as a final result of it all. He +had hoped that when <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> awakened her to a knowledge +of her own splendid development she would accept +his plea that they take up their new life together, but +this expectation had been in vain.</p> + +<p>“It has come too late,” he said, bitterly, to Uncle +Peabody. “We can only imagine the tortures through +which the poor girl has passed by the severity of this +reaction. She has been forcing herself to make this supreme +sacrifice, which she believes is necessary, and has +succeeded at last in destroying that love which I know +she felt for me even through the worst of the crisis.”</p> + +<p>“She loves you still, Jack,” replied Uncle Peabody, +whose complete sympathy had been won by Armstrong’s +attitude during the trying days they were passing +through together. “It is this which has made it so +hard for her.”</p> + +<p>“It is only your ever-present optimism,” the younger +man replied, sadly. “Now that I see myself as I have +really been during these past weeks, I cannot share it +with you, much as I wish I could. If I, having actually +experienced this spell and knowing its force, find it so +impossible to explain to myself this long series of inexplicable +events, how can I expect anything other than +this generous but unfortunate conviction that her self-sacrifice +is necessary?”</p> + +<p>His face contracted as he spoke, and the veins upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +his forehead stood out boldly against the fair skin, still +colorless from his prolonged illness.</p> + +<p>“And the worst of it all is that I can make no sacrifice +which can possibly accomplish anything,” he continued. +“She—she must suffer on indefinitely for my selfishness, +for my neglect.”</p> + +<p>“Let me speak to her just once more,” Inez pleaded, +in real pity for the man beside her. “When she is +strong enough, perhaps I can make her understand.”</p> + +<p>“No,” he replied, firmly, yet showing his appreciation +of her thought for him, “she has endured enough +already. The very mention of her husband can only +revive unhappy memories. She shall at least be spared +any further pleading on my behalf.”</p> + +<p>At last the doctor pronounced the danger-point +passed, and the relief which the announcement brought +gave Armstrong the necessary strength to enable him +to take upon himself the details of packing and closing +up the house, and getting everything in readiness to +leave for home as soon as Helen should be strong enough +to travel.</p> + +<p>“The place has been hateful to her all these weeks,” +he explained, “and she must be freed from every scene +which suggests what has passed.”</p> + +<p>As he went from one part of the villa to another, he +was constantly reminded with painful forcefulness of the +days which they had first enjoyed there together. The +flowers in the garden, the singing of the birds in the +trees, the distant view of the city—each possessed a personal +significance. “I love the present,” she had said +to him—“I love the sky, the air, the sunshine, and the +flowers.”</p> + +<p>Happy, buoyant nature—the natural humanist! She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +assimilated all that was best in life, and had he given her +the opportunity would have breathed it out again to +those around her richer and more inspiring because of +its contact with her own rare self! Fool that he had +been! With the riches of the past lying at his hand to +be drawn upon for material, he had selfishly insisted +that his own methods of using them were the only ones, +recognizing too late the inspiration and the real assistance +which she was amply able to give him in transforming +these riches into even purer gold by the magic +touch of the present. Armstrong groaned as the irony +of it came to him.</p> + +<p>Helen recovered slowly, and with a sweetness which +touched the hearts of all about her. Inez and Uncle +Peabody were with her much of the time, but Armstrong, +true to his conviction that he had become distasteful to +her, waited to be asked for; and Helen did not ask. The +only event which happened to interrupt the even tenor +of the days was a call from the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Contessa Morelli</span>, who +was solicitous for her condition.</p> + +<p>“Make some excuse,” Helen said, quietly, to Inez, +who announced the visitor. “Don’t say anything to +hurt her feelings, but I really can’t see her. She does +not understand the life I know and love, and I don’t +want to understand hers.”</p> + +<p>So it was Jack whom the contessa met as she took her +departure.</p> + +<p>“I am so relieved to know that your wife is in no +danger,” she said, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“So are we all,” Armstrong replied, in a perfunctory +way, still feeling ill at ease in the contessa’s presence. +“This villa will soon be considered as a hospital if any +more of us become invalids.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Miss Thayer is not ill?” inquired the contessa, smiling +archly.</p> + +<p>“She is quite well, I believe,” he replied, coldly, but +with an effort to be civil.</p> + +<p>“How fortunate!” Amélie continued. “With Mrs. +Armstrong in no danger and Miss Thayer in good health, +you will soon, no doubt, resume your charming <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-têtes</i> +at the library?”</p> + +<p>The contessa was endeavoring to be mischievous, but +Armstrong was in no mood for her pleasantries. He +resented the words no less than the expression upon her +face. Yet he himself was partially responsible, and this +thought kept back the words upon his lips which if spoken +would have been regretted. He looked intently into her +face before he answered, and the contessa’s smile faded.</p> + +<p>“Instead of replying to your question,” Armstrong +said, quietly, with his eyes still fixed upon her, “may I +not ask you a favor?”</p> + +<p>“Surely you may ask it,” she replied; “but that does +not mean that I must grant it, does it?”</p> + +<p>“You need not grant it unless you choose,” pursued +Armstrong; “but at least I shall have the satisfaction +of asking it: will you not add one more class into which +you separate the men you meet?”</p> + +<p>The contessa laughed merrily. “What a curious request +to be made so seriously!” she exclaimed. “Of +whom shall the new class be composed?”</p> + +<p>“Of those men who are husbands and who love their +wives,” Armstrong replied, feelingly; “who despise intrigue +and disloyalty and hypocrisy in either sex; who +consider honor and life as synonyms; and who, even for +the sake of civility, cannot allow misinterpretations to +cast a shadow upon the sanctity of marriage.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> + +<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Dieu!</i>” cried the contessa, making a pretty +<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">moue</i> as she rose and moved toward the veranda; “and +I thought he had no temperament! Shall I put you +in this exotic class? Oh no; you would be so lonesome!”</p> + +<p>“I could not expect you to understand,” Armstrong +replied, in a low tone, biting his lip with vexation.</p> + +<p>Amélie watched his expression intently, a complete +change coming over her manner. The flippant bearing +was gone; the smile, aggravating as it was attractive, +vanished. She took a step toward him as she spoke.</p> + +<p>“But I do understand,” she said, slowly, in a low, +tense voice. “Perhaps I ought to feel shamed by your +contempt and indignant at your criticism. On the contrary, +I am glad that I incurred both, for by it I have +learned that a man can be honest, and that appearances +are not always the safest guides. What you have said +is what a woman understands by instinct; anything +different is what she learns—from men. Will you forgive +me? I shall not offend again.”</p> + +<p>His surprise at this new and unexpected view of the +contessa’s character was so great that it was only instinctively +that he pressed the dainty hand which was +held out to him. For a moment their eyes met.</p> + +<p>“I wish that you and your wife might both have come +into my life earlier,” she said, simply, and then turned +quickly to the door and was in the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tonneau</span> of her motor-car +before Armstrong could offer to assist her. So, as +the machine moved away, he stood on the veranda, bowing +his acknowledgment of her radiant smile into which +a new element had entered.</p> + +<p>Then Armstrong turned back into the hallway, where +he met the doctor and Uncle Peabody coming down the +stairs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Has she asked for me yet?” he inquired, eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” Dr. Montgomery answered, with that understanding +which is a part of the physician’s profession. +Armstrong turned away to conceal his face, which he +felt must show all that was passing through his heart.</p> + +<p>“I wish you would go to her, anyway,” the doctor +continued.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what you are suggesting, doctor—I +want to do it so much—but I must not.”</p> + +<p>“It will be necessary to talk with her soon about our +future plans, Jack,” Uncle Peabody said, seeing a way +to accomplish their purpose. “Dr. Montgomery says +that Helen is strong enough now to discuss the matter.”</p> + +<p>Armstrong looked from one to the other with uncertainty. +“You are right,” he said, at length. “She +must be consulted about that, and I am the one to do it.”</p> + +<p>He chose the morning for his visit to her—a morning +filled with the sunshine she loved so well. He plucked +a handful of the fragrant blossoms from the garden, +hoping that the odor might recall to her some of the +happy moments they had experienced together. The +very perfume rising from the redolent petals seemed to +accuse him as he stood before her door awaiting the +nurse’s response to his knock.</p> + +<p>“May I come in?” he asked, looking across the room +to the bed where Helen lay propped up with pillows, +so that she could look out of the window into the garden, +even though the tops of the trees alone rewarded her gaze.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Helen weakly replied, yet with a smile, +and the nurse discreetly left them to themselves.</p> + +<p>Armstrong seated himself on a chair near the bed and +gazed in silence at the thin, pale features of the woman +before him. This was the wreck of the beautiful girl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> +he had married and brought here to Florence for her +honeymoon. What a honeymoon!</p> + +<p>“I am glad you came to me at last,” Helen said, +quietly, interrupting his convicting thoughts.</p> + +<p>“At last!” The words brought him to himself. +Mastering his emotion as best he could, he took her +thin hand in his, and the fact that she did not withdraw +it gave him courage.</p> + +<p>“I have longed to come to you each day, but you +asked me not to make it harder for you.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad you came to me at last,” she repeated.</p> + +<p>How should he begin? The sentences he had thought +out carefully, which might convey his necessary message +and yet spare her, seemed too cold, too meaningless. +He glanced up at her helplessly, and the expression +on her face helped him to his purpose. Impulsively +drawing his chair still nearer to the bed, he poured out +to her the self-incriminations which had haunted him for +days. In a torrent of pitiless words he pictured himself +without mercy. There was no plea for reconsideration, +no thought of future readjustment. The one idea was +to let her know how fully he realized all that had happened, +how powerless he felt himself to make restitution, +and his determination to do what now remained to make +her future as little overcast as possible by the events +which had already taken place.</p> + +<p>“I would not have come now except that it is necessary,” +he said, brokenly. “I know that to see me must +recall unhappy recollections, but there are some matters +which we must talk over together. I have not come to +plead for any reconsideration—you were right in what +you said the last time we talked about it, as you have +been in all else. Our marriage was a mistake, and it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> +I who have made it so. I no longer ask that we try +to restore matters to their former position. The only +sacrifice within my power is to give you a chance to recover +as much as you can of what I have made you lose. +The penalty is hard, but well deserved.”</p> + +<p>He did not look into her face as he spoke, lest he lose +his courage before all was said. “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> has told you +what you have taught us both, which is another debt +I owe you. It should be some little consolation, dear, +to know that your expression and your understanding +have been so much clearer than those of this librarian, +whom I have considered infallible; than those of your +husband, whom in the past I know you have respected and +loved. Thank God for that love!” he repeated, abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Then it is really true that my ‘dear present’ is +worth something, after all?”</p> + +<p>“Your ‘dear present’ is the saving clause. Without +it we limit ourselves beyond the hope of recovery, just +as I have done. The glories of the past are as splendid +and as important as I ever painted them, but they must +be awakened with the breath of present necessities. You +have always felt this and expressed it; I have known it +only since you taught it to me.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad,” she answered, simply.</p> + +<p>“But I am forgetting my errand,” Armstrong continued, +bracing himself for a final effort. “As soon as +you are able to travel you will, of course, wish to return +home. It may be that, for the sake of appearances, you +will wish me to go with you, in which case I shall make it +as easy as possible for you. Or you can return with Uncle +Peabody, as he tells me you once spoke to him of doing. +He is eager to do anything you wish, but he has plans +which need to be arranged after you have once decided.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span></p> + +<p>Helen’s gaze rested firmly upon her husband’s half-averted +face, watching the changing expressions, reading +the unspoken words. “He longs for the return to him +of the wife he has always loved” rang in her ears, and +now for the first time it seemed to ring true. Her mind +was moving fast as Armstrong ceased speaking, and even +when she replied, a moment later, it was not an answer.</p> + +<p>“What is Inez going to do?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“As soon as we close the villa she will go to the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pension</i> +where the Sinclair girls were.”</p> + +<p>“She will stay in Florence?” Helen asked, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Yes; she has arranged with <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Cerini</span> to work with him +upon his <span class="name">Humanistic Studies</span>.”</p> + +<p>Helen withdrew her hand from his as she leaned back +upon the pillow and closed her eyes. Armstrong regarded +her anxiously, fearful lest their interview had +been too great a strain upon her returning strength; +but as he looked her eyes opened again.</p> + +<p>“You must know at once whether I prefer to return +home with you or with Uncle Peabody?” she asked, +faintly.</p> + +<p>“Not at once,” he replied, leaning nearer to catch the +low-spoken words—“not until you are strong enough to +decide.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly he felt both her arms about his neck, and in +his ear she whispered, “Let me go with you, Jack; but +not to Boston—take me to <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Fiesole</span>!”</p> + + +<p class="center r4">THE END</p> + + + +<hr class="l3"/> +<div class="tnote"> +<h2><a name="Transcribers_Notes" id="Transcribers_Notes"></a>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> + + + +<p>A few missing quotation marks have been added.</p> + +<p>Archaic and inconsistent spelling and hyphenation have been preserved.</p> + +<p>On page 193 the original text is: “Because ‘beautiful paintings’ do +not have husbands,” in the caption of the illustration the quote is: +“do not possess husbands.” This has been preserved.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spell, by William Dana Orcutt + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPELL *** + +***** This file should be named 35607-h.htm or 35607-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/6/0/35607/ + +Produced by David Clarke, eagkw and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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